


Pertinacious Wills

by startraveller776



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Drama, F/M, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-05 23:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startraveller776/pseuds/startraveller776
Summary: Sarah Williams’s life is turned upside down when her widowed father remarries. At the same time, a new lord has taken over the Labyrinth who may be the most insufferable man Sarah has ever known. But as she is thrown in, quite against her will, with him and his kind, she discovers mysteries that call to question everything she thought she knew.





	1. Fate's Capricious Nature

**Author's Note:**

> YES, I AM RESURRECTING THIS STORY.
> 
> I cannot guarantee updates in a timely manner; my life is extremely busy. Also, if you have a copy of this story, you might note that I've made a few small changes--nothing significant. It's only to help the story flow better.
> 
> For new readers, please note that while this is inspired by the British Regency Era, this is an entirely made-up world. 
> 
> Special thanks to my original betas: cu-kud and nexttosomething.

“I have heard that Lord Kingston is to retire to the country in less than a year’s time,” Aunt Mary said, breaking the evening silence as she pulled a stitch out of her embroidery, her face bathed in the flickering firelight of the hearth.

Sarah afforded her aunt the barest glance before returning to her reading. She had little interest in idle gossip. 

She had been visiting the Ingleby residence, her father's sister and family, for the last month as Mr. Williams was himself in the South on business. He had felt uncomfortable leaving Sarah home alone in his absence, and she needed no excuse to see her beloved cousin and enjoy a respite for society in Laborintus.

“Indeed?” Elizabeth, Sarah’s cousin, looked up from her needlework. “He has ruled over the Labyrinth for as long as anyone can remember—some say more than five centuries. Does he have an heir? Who is to inherit?”

Aunt Mary smiled. “Lord Kingston has two sons and a daughter, in fact. They have all three been at court in Aulderon for these many years.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “The eldest, who will inherit, is said to be quite handsome, though his manner is less than pleasing. The younger brother is the more affable of the two. Both are unattached. I have heard little of the daughter aside from her unsurpassable beauty.”

Elizabeth squealed with delight. “Do you think they will hold a ball? I have never attended one put on by immortals before.” She placed a hand on Sarah’s arm. “You have, though, cousin. What was it like?”

Sarah stifled a sigh. She recalled the Masque she had attended three years before when she had come out into society. The music, the laughter, and gaiety had been overwhelming. She had not a moment’s peace during the ordeal. Each time she made as if to sit and rest, a masked immortal would implore her to dance. Her father had said it was because she was beautiful—that the Fae liked pretty things. Sarah had disliked being treated as though she were a trinket to be passed around rather than a young woman of eighteen years with tired feet.

“It was rather lively,” she replied, fingering the page of her book.

Elizabeth clapped her hands, her laughter shaking her blonde ringlets. “Oh, Sarah! How you understate everything! I’m certain it was thrilling. I’m quite jealous of you, you know. You have such connections!”

Sarah gave her cousin a patient smile. “Perhaps you shall have to call upon us when Lord Kingston has another ball. Though, I daresay you might discover the experience to be very different from what you imagine—and not for the better.”

Aunt Mary shook her head. “How is your poor father to marry you off well when you speak so, dear niece? One would believe you have no intention of accepting a good match at all. Why, if Mr. Ingleby had half of the connections your father has, I would have seen Elizabeth settled immediately.”

“I’m certain Father would have made a proper match for me long ago had there been one.” Sarah tucked her legs beneath her on the divan, growing tired of the conversation. “As to his connections, I am certain he would be willing to lend you some. They do me no good. I am of the opinion that I would be happier running away with some poor farmer—or perhaps I might live out my life alone as a novelist. Both are far more romantic notions than being courted for my dowry.”

Elizabeth gasped. “How can you say such things? You would have no less than thirty suitors—even among the Fae—if you could hold your tongue.”

Aunt Mary offered her daughter a comforting hand. “I am afraid it cannot be helped, Elizabeth. What can be expected of a young woman who has had no mother? Sarah has only the presence of men in her upbringing, and their coarseness has made her speech scandalous.” She turned to Sarah. “I do wish your father would remarry. You need the gentle touch of a woman to polish you to a shine.”

Sarah bit back a retort, clenching her jaw at her aunt’s words. Why did everyone act as though Sarah were not enough as she was? She felt complete and saw no need to upset the pleasant life she shared with her father. 

“But I have you, dear aunt.” She gave Aunt Mary’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Your tutelage has been more than sufficient.”

Aunt Mary made a derisive sound. “I’m afraid my influence has been of little benefit to you. Your manners are ruined beyond repair.” She sighed. “At least you have your beauty. There might be a man of good standing yet who can tolerate an outspoken woman if she has alluring features. I still have hope for you, my dear.”

Sarah turned back to her book, choosing not to reply. She ignored her aunt and cousin as they continued to prattle on about what it would be like to attend a ball put on by immortals. At times Sarah wished she had been born to a humble farmer or a clergyman. Then she wouldn’t have to concern herself with society or care about pleasing her family with a marriage to a man of rank and fortune. The poor could marry for love—or not marry at all. It was a beautiful dream.

Unfortunately, fate had not seen fit to give her that kind of freedom. She was born to as much privilege as a mortal could hope for. In fact, her mother had been half-Fae. Sarah could reasonably expect to outlive many other mortals her age—her cousin included—and she’d been told by one of her governesses that she might have a little magic as well. Sarah had seen no manifestation of special powers as of yet.

The combination of her father’s rank, her mother’s lineage, and her large dowry made Sarah more than an excellent match for any human suitor and an acceptable one for any of the lower Fae nobles. Most mortal women would rejoice to be gifted with such circumstances. Sarah, however, counted it a burden. She was still a young woman, and until her father demanded she settle, she would continue to rebuff all enticements to wed.

“Sarah,” Elizabeth said, interrupting her musings, “have you spent time at the castle? What is it like? Are the goblins as hideous as they say? What is Lord Kingston like? Is it true that he looks not a day over five and thirty?”

“I can hardly answer if you do not pause for breath!” Sarah laughed at her cousin’s exuberance, holding up a hand to stave off further questioning. “I have not had the misfortune of visiting the Labyrinth or the castle at its center. I cannot tell you what goblins are like. However, I have met his Lordship and the rumors are, in fact, true. If he were mortal, I would have guessed his age to be that of a young man rather than one who has lived for several hundred years—all of the Fae are so.”

“Have you seen him work magic? Have you met his children?” Elizabeth set aside her embroidery and leaned on her elbows. “Oh, don’t leave out any details, Sarah! You must give your poor country cousin this gift.”

Sarah shook her head, wondering what glorious delusions were frittering about in lovely Elizabeth’s head. Surely the truth would fail to live up to those elevated expectations.

“Perhaps I can prevail upon Father to let you visit for the Equinox two months hence? Then you may have all your questions answered. Lord Kingston is sure to hold a celebration.” Sarah closed her book. “I think I shall retire for the evening.”

She was not the least tired and would have preferred to finish her book, but she knew Elizabeth would not be satisfied with only a promise of a visit. Sarah dearly loved her energetic cousin, but she did not want to spend the rest of the evening answering questions about the Fae.

Tomorrow her father would come to collect her, and she could return home to quiet solitude.

* * *

Sarah walked a path down the countryside, neglecting to keep the hems of her dress and cloak out of the snow. Her aunt would fuss over her carelessness when she returned, but for the moment, Sarah reveled in the fresh air—even if it was chill. She paused at a copse of trees, their limbs laden with fluffy, white powder, and pulled out the letter from her father that had arrived that morning, rereading the words which had sliced her heart.

_My dear Sarah,_

_I hope this message finds you in good spirits. I know you have always enjoyed your visits with your aunt and cousin, and I expect this time has been no different._

_I am sure it is apparent by now I will be late in retrieving you. I fear business has gone slower than planned. Lord Kingston is quite adamant that all his affairs are in order before he passes the rule of the Labyrinth to his heir. No doubt such rumor has reached even the countryside by now, and I can confirm the truth of it. Lord Kingston’s children are set to arrive at Laborintus by the Equinox, and I shall meet my new employer then. I can only hope, for our sake, Lord Jareth Kingston will be as generous as his father._

_I hesitate to share the other reason for my delay, as I know such news may not be to your liking. As much as my heart wishes you to rejoice for my good fortune, I know the adjustment will be great. I have and will always love your mother, but after decades spent as a widower, I have decided it is time to remarry. I have met someone who has stirred my long dormant affection, and I hope you will embrace her as your new mother. She is a good woman, widowed herself but a few years ago. I believe she will offer you the benefit of motherly love, something you have lacked in your upbringing._

_She also has a young son, Tobias, who is but six years in age. I know of your affection for children and hope you shall adore your new brother._

_Please forgive me for making a swift decision without your counsel, but you are a young woman now. I doubt it will be long before you make your own home with a worthy man._

_I will come before the Equinox, after Karen and Tobias are settled at home. Please convey my gratitude to your aunt for allowing an extended stay._

_Yours always, Robert Williams_

Sarah folded the letter and held it against her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt a tumult of emotions churning within her—disappointment the most prevalent. Why had Father changed everything? Hadn’t he been as happy as she? Apparently not.

And what of this widow who had captured her father’s heart? The letter gave little information on her other than Father’s apparent affection for her. Sarah had been used to being the lady of the Williams estate, and now another woman was usurping the role. In a mere few words, Sarah’s world had turned upside-down.

A distant sound of horse hooves pulled her from her melancholy thoughts. Sarah hastily wiped away her tears as two men rode to a halt near her.

“Ho!” called the first, dismounting when the horse settled. As he strode closer, leaving the other man to tend the horses, Sarah surmised he was an immortal. He had dark, wavy hair, pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, and pale green eyes. His handsome face had an aura about it no human could imitate.

Sarah gave him a deep curtsey when he approached. “I apologize if I interrupted your ride, milord.”

“What a beautiful interruption it is,” he said, smiling. “Please refrain from apologies. My horse would thank you for the break.” He held out his hand. “I am Edmund Locksley of Aulderon. Who might you be?”

Sarah blushed as he kissed the top of her hand. “Sarah Williams of Laborintus.”

He raised a brow. “Might you be the daughter of Robert Williams?”

Sarah nodded. “I am, indeed.”

“You are far from home, Miss Williams.” He glanced about. “And without a companion, I believe.”

Sarah felt a nervous flutter in her heart as she recalled her father’s warnings over the years about being alone in the countryside. His association with Lord Kingston had given her freedom to walk the hills near her home without fear of being snatched by an immortal who might favor her dark hair and emerald eyes. Too stricken by her father’s news, she had forgotten she had no such protection in her aunt’s country.

“Please, sir,” she said, her voice quivering, “my aunt will be waiting for me.”

Edmund laughed. “Fear not, Miss Williams. Kingston would have my head if I were to spirit away with you—pretty thing, though you are.”

Sarah let out a breath of relief. “You know his Lordship?”

“The ruler of the Labyrinth?” He shook his head. “I have not yet made his acquaintance. I refer to his son who is a dear friend of mine.”

Sarah frowned. “But I only learned yesterday Lord Kingston has offspring. How is it his son knows of me?”

“Allow me to escort you to your aunt’s home, and I shall reveal the mystery.” Edmund turned to his companion, waving him off. In a heartbeat, the other man and both horses faded out of existence as though they had been only specters. The sudden disappearance would have been startling if Sarah hadn't been exposed much of her life to Fae magic. 

“Shall we?” Edmund asked, offering his arm to her.

Sarah took it, letting him set a leisurely pace. 

“As I am sure you are aware, Lord Kingston holds your father in high regard.” At Sarah’s nod, Edmund continued, “I do not think he sends a single letter without mentioning Robert Williams in some form. And he also speaks well of you.”

“Me? I have met him but few times in my short life.” Sarah found the revelation surprising.

“Your encounters must have been memorable, then.” Edmund shrugged. “He says you are unlike other mortal women. You do not refrain from speaking your mind, nor do you play games to ensnare the affections of a Fae lord to increase your standing in society.” He grinned. “I’m pleased to be the first to test the veracity of these claims—though Kingston will be put out that I laid eyes on you before he did.”

Sarah’s cheeks reddened with both embarrassment and indignation. “Am I a curiosity, then? A spectacle to be toyed with until you all grow tired of me?” She felt, in this moment, the same sense of being put on display as she had experienced at the Masque years before.

Edmund tossed his head back, laughing. “Every word is true, I see. How refreshing you are, Miss Williams.” He winked at her. “Though, I will warn that the new Lord Kingston might not enjoy your candor quite so well.”

Sarah released his arm when the house was in view. “Then I shall have to avoid making his acquaintance.” She gave Edmund a curtsey. “You have my thanks for seeing me safely home.”

He bowed. “The pleasure was mine, Miss Williams. I shall look forward to our next encounter with bated breath.” He vanished as soon as the words left his mouth.

Elizabeth came running to Sarah’s side. “He was one of them! Oh, Sarah, how I wish you had beseeched him to stay for dinner! Who was he?”

Sarah linked her arm with her cousin’s. “A friend of one of Lord Kingston’s sons, it seems. We crossed paths by happenstance.”

“Which son?”

“He never said.” Sarah led Elizabeth to the house. “I assume the younger as he warned me of the elder.”

Elizabeth sighed. “You have the most exciting life, Sarah. How can you be so unmoved by it?”

“Overexposure, I suppose.” Sarah patted Elizabeth’s hand. “If I could take your place and give you mine, I would do so without hesitation, dear cousin.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Come,” she said, pulling Sarah through the front doors. “You must tell me everything he said!”

Sarah followed her cousin, lightened by her companionship. She would brood over her father’s letter and Edmund’s words later, but for now, she would revel in the cheerful company of family.


	2. Of Riddles and Puzzles

Arm in arm with Elizabeth, Sarah strolled the hills behind the Ingleby home. After her surprise encounter with Edmund Locksley, she had been certain to take a companion with her on her daily walks. Sarah missed the seclusion, the opportunity to mediate while in the fresh air, but she feared crossing paths with another Fae—one who was unfamiliar with either the Kingstons or the Williams. Such an immortal would have no constraints on taking liberties should he choose to do so.

The snow had melted weeks before, giving way to the rain, which left the ground damp and muddy. Greenery sprouted in the meadows and on previously bare branches, announcing the onset of spring. Sarah enjoyed the loamy aroma of new earth as she inhaled deeply. It invigorated her senses, made her feel incandescent.

She glanced at her cousin and found Elizabeth not as pleased to be in the fresh air, but she made no complaint. Sarah smiled, feeling grateful for her dear, stalwart friend. Elizabeth’s patience and undying support was an anchor for Sarah’s mercurial demeanor.

“What news from your father?” Elizabeth asked as they carefully stepped around a puddle. “You received a letter two days ago but made no mention of its contents.”

“He is to arrive soon—perhaps today, even.” Sarah patted her cousin’s arm. “He approves of your visiting us in Laborintus and has decided your company will help speed my adjustment to a new mother and brother.” Sarah smiled. “You may stay as long as you wish—or as long as _I_ wish. I’m certain you will grow weary of my morose companionship long before I no longer have need of yours.”

Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. “Must you always be so dramatic, Sarah? I have little doubt I will find my visit quite agreeable. There is so much to do in Laborintus!”

“Elizabeth, you are the paragon of enthusiasm, and I would have you no other way,” Sarah replied. “Laborintus, however, is not so diverting as Aulderon.”

“Oh, but I am certain it is a good deal more diverting than the country.” Elizabeth’s expression turned wistful. “The Fae walk the streets of your city. Here, we have little to entice the interest of an immortal.”

A baritone voice cut in. “I would disagree.”

Elizabeth let out a squeak of surprise. Turning, the women found Edmund Locksley leaning against a tree two paces behind. Elizabeth gave Sarah’s arm a squeeze—likely out of delight rather than fear—as the handsome Fae straightened and made his way toward the women.

“This immortal has found plenty in the country to interest him,” he said, his green eyes on Sarah as he bowed. “I thought I might find you here, Miss Williams. And I see you have wisely taken a companion this time—quite a lovely one, in fact.”

“Mr. Locksley, this is my cousin, Elizabeth Ingleby,” Sarah said.

“Enchanted, Miss Ingleby.” Edmund took Elizabeth’s hand, placing a delicate kiss upon it. “If I had known mortals could produce such striking specimens, I should have spent more time in their company.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed with the compliment. “You are too kind.”

Sarah drew near her cousin, concerned Elizabeth would too easily fall prey to such flowery speech. “Be careful of his silver tongue. The Fae have had centuries with which to perfect the art of flattery, and Mr. Locksley appears to be especially practiced. Now that he knows of your existence, you are not safe out of doors without an escort.”

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “Surely you are being too severe on our new acquaintance. It cannot be true that Fae are so uncivil as to steal away with a mortal on whim.” She gave Edmund an imploring gaze. “Mr. Locksley, please disabuse us of this myth.”

He grinned, baring the pointed teeth of his kind. “Unfortunately your cousin speaks the truth, Miss Ingleby—though mortal kidnappings occur less frequently than she implies. Miss Williams was right to warn you, however. You are an alluring creature, and your safety in this countryside is only guaranteed with me.”

Elizabeth’s blush deepened. “You flatter me, sir.”

“But of course. I would not want to be found out of practice.” Edmund winked at Sarah. “What a fascinating contrast the pair of you make—not only in appearance but in disposition as well.”

Sarah nodded, resuming her walk. “Yes, you are right. Elizabeth is far too naïve while I am far too wise.”

“Sarah!” Elizabeth gasped.

“And what experiences have you had, Miss Williams, which have made you thus?” asked Edmund, his smile growing rakish. “Surely you are not wise in the way I might find exciting.”

Sarah glared at him, her cheeks burning at his cavalier language. “I would thank you to refrain from such salacious comments in the presence of my cousin’s genteel nature.”

“And yet you are unconcerned for your own nature?” He raised a brow with mock severity. “How telling.”

Sarah’s indignation rose at the implication. “My virtue is intact, sir! I speak only of my association with your kind in _appropriate_ venues. I have learned immortals lack any decency in conversation—unconstrained by the propriety to which human men must adhere.”

Edmund clasped his hand over his breast, stumbling as if Sarah had shot him with an arrow. “You injure us with your ruthless criticism. I am stunned to hear such censure from one who has Fae heritage, herself.” His expression was amused rather than offended. “Propriety can grow tedious over the years, Miss Williams. Live for a few centuries and you will discover the truth of my words.”

He fell silent, leaving Sarah to ponder his perspective. Would she feel the same disdain for decorum if she had been born a full Fae? The thought made her shudder. Sarah might be freer of speech than other young women, but rules and laws served a purpose. Without them, society would decay under the base instincts of humans and Fae alike, making them no different than the unthinking animals populating the countryside.

“I must apologize,” Edmund said. “It was not my intention to ruin your promenade on this splendid day with debate. I admit I cannot resist the opportunity to fence words with one as shrewd as you, Miss Williams.” He faced Sarah, walking backward in front of her. “You must promise me this: that I may join you for your first meeting with Lord Jareth. His poor reaction to your wit would certainly be the greatest entertainment I will have for eons.”

“You would tease his Lordship?” Sarah asked, raising her brows. She enjoyed making light of dear friends when the occasion called for it, but to mock a ruler was an entirely different matter.

“Every moment, if I had my way.” Edmund flashed a dazzling smile before returning to her side. “Do not pity the man for he’s earned it.”

“If Lord Kingston has seen fit to give Lord Jareth rule of the Labyrinth, surely he is worthy of some respect, Mr. Locksley—no matter how unseemly his character may appear.” Sarah afforded him a stern gaze.

Edmund laughed at her severe expression. “Your sense of morality is terribly quaint, Miss Williams! You fret over nothing, I assure you.”

Elizabeth intervened before Sarah could further rebuke the Fae. “Will you tell us of the Kingston siblings, Mr. Locksley? I understand you are close with one of the brothers. Is it the younger?”

Edmund’s eyes glinted with an impish light. “Shall we make a game of it? Perhaps I will tell you a quality, and you will have to guess which of the three it describes. For example, one of the Kingstons is a great admirer of fashion and never wears the same dress more than once.”

“Lady Kingston, of course!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Sarah laughed, having already forgotten her earlier umbrage. “This will be a quick game, indeed, if your hints continue to be so obvious.”

“Hm.” Edmund frowned. “You are quite right, Miss Williams. If we remove Lady Kingston from the game, there might be a greater challenge.” He glanced at Elizabeth. “I will assuage your curiosity, Miss Ingleby, with regard to the fair daughter of Lord Kingston, and tell you she embodies those qualities which belong to the highest of Fae women—beauty, geniality, cultivated in the arts, well-spoken. All this and more. She’s rather ordinary, to be frank.”

“Ordinary!” Sarah stared at him, astonished. “I wonder what passes for extraordinary among your kind, then.”

“When I see it, I shall inform you immediately, Miss Williams,” he replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Let us revise our game further. Instead of just one trait, I will delineate each of the brothers in detail—omitting, perhaps, a few qualities in order to keep the mystery—and you will guess which of the two has been my long-time companion. The game ends when Miss Ingleby’s house is in view. Are we in agreement?”

“Oh, yes!” Elizabeth clapped her hands. “I do so love games.”

“As do I.” Edmund grinned. “And so we begin: one brother was taken with the drink for a time. He has also been, in the past, indiscreet with the fairer sex—more often than even prurient Fae decorum allows. His temper can be quite volatile, and over the years his outbursts have estranged him from a few of his acquaintances. He unleashes his acerbic wit on all when ill-tempered—”

“Mr. Locksley,” Elizabeth interrupted, “you speak as though he were the worst sort of man! Is there nothing to redeem him?”

Edmund shrugged. “I suppose he does sound rather dreadful. But allow me to continue—your house will be upon us shortly.” He cleared his throat. “One of the brothers is an accomplished musician and singer. In fact, it has been said he does not need the magic of Fae song in order to lure a mortal—the sound of his voice alone is enough. He is the cleverer of the two brothers. Although, at times he has used that sagacious mind of his for mischief—the harmless kind, of course. And while he does not easily confer his friendship, once given, his loyalty is set in stone.”

Here Edmund paused in his speech, and after a time, Sarah thought him finished. “From your report, I would surmise the latter brother is your friend. However, I fear you do the first injustice by refusing to share his better qualities. I cannot believe a son of Lord Kingston could be so reprehensible.”

Edmund rubbed his chin. “But what if I have only described one man, instead of two?”

“How can that be?” Elizabeth asked, her brow furrowing. “The qualities you named first are in discord with those you named second.”

“I think you will find, Miss Ingleby, such dichotomies of character exist among all my people—and among yours as well.” Edmund clasped his hands behind his back, his expression growing somber. “We each have sides both light and dark. This phenomenon is more pronounced within the Fae only because we have had eons to expand those natural inclinations.”

He sighed. “This smacks of serious conversation, and I strive to avoid such at all times. Perhaps, Miss Williams, you could be entreated to engage in another battle of wits?”

“I’m flattered you consider me a worthy foe, Mr. Locksley.”

“More than worthy—far more. My friend’s father has not done you justice in his letters, if I may be so bold.” He glanced up the path. “Ah, it seems our interlude is at an end.”

Sarah followed his gaze and saw the Ingleby home ahead.

“Please, Mr. Locksley, join us for tea,” Elizabeth said. “You haven’t told us which brother is your friend.”

“Perhaps another time, Miss Ingleby.” Edmund gave them a deep, flourishing bow. “Kingston will be expecting me, and I find myself anxious to torment him with news of my second encounter with the indomitable Miss Williams. He will be beside himself with envy.”

He kissed Elizabeth’s hand. “Should you attend the equinox ball at Lord Kingston’s, you must save a dance for me.” He kissed Sarah’s hand next. “And you, Miss Williams, must save two.”

He vanished before either woman could reply.

“Dear cousin, I believe you are too harsh in your opinion of the Fae,” Elizabeth said, linking her arm with Sarah’s. “Mr. Locksley seems quite affable.”

“And I fear you are too kind, Elizabeth,” Sarah replied. “However, for your sake, I shall give Mr. Locksley the benefit of the doubt.”

Elizabeth beamed. “I’m glad for it. I believe he is quite taken with you.”

Sarah denied it, but the thought took root in her mind. For the first time in her life, she found the prospect of a Fae suitor not altogether unpleasant.

* * *

Sarah rested her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder on the ride back to Laborintus. Her father sat across from them, looking as though he wished to speak but uncertain where to begin. Sarah’s reunion with him had been awkward, filled with the niceties of conversation with neither mentioning the new Mrs. Williams.

As the landscape glided past the carriage windows, Sarah thought on the alterations she would find when she returned to the Williams’ estates. How odd that her old life was gone now, swept away in the three months she was in the country. Her heart stirred with conflicting emotions. She wanted happiness for her father but not at the expense of her own. It was a selfish thought, and she knew it, but it prevailed as she considered all the sacrifices she would have to make to accommodate her new mother.

Oh, why couldn’t things remain the same!

At least the change in the Labyrinth would have little effect on her. She could take small comfort in that. As long as her father had employment, it mattered not which Lord Kingston ruled the goblins.

“Uncle,” Elizabeth said, uncomfortable with the silence, “did Sarah tell you of our new acquaintance, Mr. Locksley?”

Robert looked relieved to have the tension broken. “She did not. Who is this Mr. Locksley?”

“I had hoped you would know more of him, since he is a friend to the Kingston family.” Elizabeth gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. “He says he is close to one of the brothers but refused to tell us which.”

“Ah, a Fae, is he?” Robert nodded as if Edmund’s reticence were evidence of his immortal heritage. “They do enjoy their riddles. I have very little knowledge of Lord Kingtson’s children, however—even less so of their companions.”

Elizabeth slumped against the carriage wall. “I had so hoped to solve the mystery before the ball.”

“I wonder what brought the immortal to Merton, particularly if he is from Aulderon,” Robert mused to himself.

Sarah had not considered it before, but her father had a point. Edmund’s presence in the northern country was unusual, though she did not know why the immortals avoided it. Sarah recalled the ancient tales her nursemaid whispered under the moonlight. There had been one about the thousand-year war between the elves and the Fae. Had the northern lands belonged the elves once? Were the Fae averse to cross the unseen border even though the elves had long since sailed the Great Divide?

“Perhaps my cousin was the reason for his visits.” Elizabeth nudged Sarah. “He seemed to take great pleasure in her company.”

“Hush!” Sarah sat up, feeling the color rise to her cheeks.

“What is this?” Robert kept his expression placid, but Sarah knew him well enough to see the uneasy set of his eyes.

“Nothing, Father,” Sarah replied. “Elizabeth is mistaken. Mr. Locksley happened upon me while he was out for a ride. He did not know me by appearance but recognized my name when I gave it—Lord Kingston has written of us to his children. That is all.”

“His second visit was far from happenstance, Sarah.” Elizabeth grinned. “He was looking for you.”

“But for what purpose?” Sarah turned to her father. “I am certain his intentions toward me are only those of a Fae examining a curiosity, nothing more.” She offered a weak smile, hoping that would close the matter. She had yet to ascertain if Elizabeth’s claims contained any truth. And if they did, Sarah was unsure if she would welcome the attentions of Edmund or not.

Robert sighed. “While I strongly disapprove of Mr. Locksley approaching you without an introduction, if his conduct was proper, I will be satisfied.”

The trio fell back into silence, and Sarah was grateful. She turned her gaze back to the scenery, setting aside all thoughts of stepmothers and roguish immortals. Before long, she found her eyes closing of their own accord, and she fell fast asleep.

She dreamt of the Masque, of pressing through the throng of finely-garbed guests as they danced around her. Their masks were hideous replications of goblins—gnarled and twisted in nightmarish contrast to the jovial celebration of summer solstice. Grasping hands captured her arms, pulling her in opposing directions.

“Release me!”

Her cry was met with laughter, even as her mysterious captors let go of her. At every turn, men and women blocked her path, as if they found great sport in keeping her from escaping. She beseeched them to let her pass, to let her rest, but they ignored her, urging her instead toward the center of the meadow. Fear seized her as the revelers in grotesque masks pressed her backward, laughing and screaming in wicked delight. She threw up her hands to ward them off.

Suddenly, the air grew quiet but for the sound of music. Sarah lowered her arms and saw the mob receding, their expressions sobered as all eyes were fixed behind her. Her heart beating a rapid tattoo, Sarah turned, afraid to discover her rescuer.

Before her stood a masked man with disheveled blond hair, his gloved hand stretched toward her. His attire was no less resplendent than the other celebrants, but neither was it more noteworthy. What stood him apart—other than the simple silver mask he wore—was his fulgent aura, marking him as a powerful Fae.

He waited in silence, holding forth his hand as if he knew she would take it without question. She sensed he was a dangerous being; his eyes seemed capable of delving into her very soul. She trembled under his piercing gaze, even as she drew closer. When she placed her hand in his, the music transformed from a sprightly tune to something haunting and slow.

He pulled her to him, placing his other hand on her hip in the manner of the new, indecent dance the Fae had begun to favor recently. Sarah blushed at the intimacy of his touch as he led her in drowsy circles across the grassy plain. He spoke not a word as they danced, his intense eyes always on hers.

The song ended, leaving utter stillness to pervade the air. Sarah shivered when she realized they were alone. Her companion stroked her cheek as he removed her mask. She willed herself to retreat, to demand he arrest his forward behavior, but neither her tongue nor her feet would obey. She could do nothing but watch as he drew his finger across her lips, awakening unfamiliar sensations within her. He grinned before leaning down—

Sarah woke with a gasp, her heartbeat a gallop of horses. She brought a quaking hand to her mouth.

“Are you all right, Sarah?” Elizabeth asked. Both she and Robert watched Sarah with concern.

She smiled in a poor attempt to appear unaffected. “It was nothing—merely a strange dream.”

Instead of appeasing her father, her words seemed to give Robert greater worry. “Your mother was beset with strange dreams. They were…” he paused, glancing at Elizabeth, “…a burden at times.”

Sarah inferred that he wished to say more but in private. She reached across the carriage and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I assure you I am well, Father.”

She was not well, however. She had never had such a vivid and distressing dream before, and she feared this would only be the first of many. From her father’s comment, she believed she might be experiencing the onset of her inheritance from her mother—a gift from her Fae lineage.

“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed, startling Sarah. “Is that the Labyrinth? It’s so vast!”

Outside the carriage windows, a large citadel sat in the center of a daunting maze of stone walls—so massive it filled the valley below. At the peak of each tower, a breeze whipped red banners embroidered with the Kingston family crest. Sarah regarded the familiar image of a black shield with a golden lion’s head with a sense of homecoming.

“Uncle, however do you manage to get to the castle? Is there a secret path?” Elizabeth glowed with excitement.

Robert shook his head. “Lord Kingston summons me with magic. Only runners enter the Labyrinth—and the creatures that make it their home.”

“Runners? Then the stories are true!” Elizabeth turned back to the window, frowning. “Mortals do wish away children—and have to run the Labyrinth as punishment. How barbaric!”

Sarah lifted a brow. “Which? The mortals who wish a child gone or their reparation for calling upon the ancient magic?”

“The former, of course.” Elizabeth pulled her cloak tighter around her as if to ward off a chill. “I once thought my nursemaid’s tales to be greatly exaggerated—I am disinclined to believe the worst in anyone, as you are well aware. That someone could wish away an innocent...” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

Sarah wrapped her arms around Elizabeth. “There is still much good in the world, sweet cousin. Do not let a few fools ruin your sanguine vision of humanity. You must be the light to counteract my rather grey proclivities. I’m counting on it.”

Elizabeth laughed in spite of her agitation. “Oh, Sarah. I adore you, you know.”

Sarah smiled, cheered to see her loved one in good spirits again. “I do.”

For the rest of the journey, Sarah encouraged the conversation toward the upcoming ball. Though she was not at all enthused by the prospect of another Fae celebration—certainly not after her disturbing dream—the topic would brighten her cousin’s mood further. After witnessing Elizabeth lose hope in the goodness of people—even for a moment—Sarah was no longer in a hurry to dispel any of her cousin’s beliefs, no matter how fallacious they might be. The world would do the job soon enough, and for a little while, Sarah wanted to cling to Elizabeth’s steady optimism.


	3. Inauspicious Introductions

Sarah stepped out of the carriage, her limbs stiff from the long journey. The evening air was cool, though not as biting as it had been in the north. In the windows of the mansion, warm candlelight flickered like a beacon for the weary travelers. Sarah wanted to bask in the comforts therein, but this was no longer the house she had known since childhood.

“I had forgotten how grand your home is,” Elizabeth said as she joined Sarah. “I can hardly believe it’s been more than ten years since I visited last.”

“Hm,” Robert said. “I suppose in our selfish need to escape to the country, we have denied you the opportunity to call upon us for want of familial rapport.”

Sarah smiled at her cousin. “I shall make up for the lack by exposing you to every pleasant diversion Laborintus has to offer.”

“If you aren’t careful, you may find yourself discovering a hidden affection for your city in the process,” Elizabeth said.

The doors of the mansion burst forth at that moment, discharging a small boy with tousled blond hair. He sped past Sarah and Elizabeth, dashed around the carriage, and startled the horses.

“Master Toby!” yelled a woman of rather large girth who hobbled onto the steps. She wore a servant’s uniform, and Sarah guessed her to be the boy’s nursemaid.

As the nursemaid chased after the boy, another woman emerged from the house. She was tall, of slender build and elegant countenance. Her hair was the color of honey, and her eyes a vibrant blue. She carried herself with a regal air as she descended the steps, stopping before the party with a smile on her beautiful visage. Sarah had little doubt as to the reasons her father had been drawn to this woman.

“Sarah,” Karen said, “I know you must be weary from your journey, but I could wait not a moment longer to make your acquaintance.” She clasped Sarah’s hands. “Robert speaks of you with such fondness, I had to see you with my own eyes.”

Sarah attempted an affable expression but feared her smile appeared affected. “Mrs. Williams”—the words tasted bitter on her tongue—“I am pleased to know the woman who captured my father’s regard.”

“Please! You must call me Karen. I’m far too young to hope you would address me as ‘mother,’ but ‘Mrs. Williams’ seems much too formal, as I am sure you would agree.”

“Of course.” Sarah gave the other woman a nod. She’d rather not have need to call on her stepmother at all but to say as much would be uncivil.

The nursemaid returned with the young lad, who pouted at her side.

Karen patted Toby’s head. “Toby, this is your new sister, Sarah.” She nudged him forward.

Toby peered up at Sarah, squinting as if she were as brilliant as the sun.

“Hello, Toby,” she greeted him, holding out a hand to shake.

He glanced back at his mother, and Sarah found his apparent reserve beguiling, despite his wild display but moments before. Unfortunately, he dispelled her supposition of his character by kicking her in the shin, then darting off into the mansion. With a cry of frustration, the nursemaid ran after him.

“You must forgive him,” Karen said, untroubled by her son’s ill-mannered behavior. “He is merely overtaxed. You’ll find a pleasanter sibling in him after he’s rested.”

Sarah hoped the woman’s assertion would prove correct. Toby had not made a winning first impression.

“And you must be Miss Ingleby.” Karen bowed her head toward Elizabeth. “We are pleased to have your company. Let me show you to your rooms before you fall over from fatigue.”

Once inside the home, Robert took his leave of the ladies, expressing a need to see to business matters before retiring for the evening. Sarah watched her father’s departing form with consternation—she was not prepared to suffer Karen’s company without his support. Sarah reached for her cousin’s hand, seeking comfort as they followed Karen.

They had not walked but a few steps before Sarah had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She had expected her stepmother to have made some changes to the décor, but the interior was completely refurbished. Instead of the simple, graceful design Sarah’s mother had favored, the rooms were filled with decadent furnishings which bespoke of great wealth.

Karen, as if sensing her new daughter’s displeasure, said, “I apologize for such dramatic alterations, but the house before was not at all befitting a man of your father’s rank and station.” She led them up the grand staircase. “Now, we can properly entertain guests. Why, Lord and Lady Kingston have dined with us thrice since the renovation.”

Elizabeth gasped in awe, but Sarah was unmoved by the honor. She was, however, anxious to reach her rooms, to ascertain with her own eyes they had been left untouched. Already, she felt a stranger in the home she had been raised in. Karen’s presence, evident in even the wall hangings, was becoming more oppressive by the minute.

When they arrived at her rooms, Sarah threw open the door in eagerness to have her fears absolved, but instead they were confirmed at a glance. The antechamber was set with the same garish furnishings as the rest of the home. Sarah nearly dashed to her bedroom, desperate to discover her last sanctuary unaltered. Her heart batted painfully against her ribcage as she worried over those treasures she kept sacred in her room—treasures which had once belonged to her mother.

More tentative than before, she opened the mahogany door. At the sight of the large canopied bed in place of her simpler one, a sob burst from Sarah before she could stay the sound with her hand. It was all gone—everything which had been her mother’s had been replaced.

“My room.” Sarah clutched the doorframe, grief and anger swelling in her bosom.

Karen stepped past her, her face aglow with pride. “Do you like it?”

Sarah stared at the woman in astonishment. “Do I like it? Those were my mother’s things!”

“I was never told.” Karen frowned. “Honestly, Sarah, if I had left your rooms as they were, I would have been accused of letting you live as a pauper in your own home.” Her expression softened. “I know this must be difficult for you, but you will soon see it is all for the best.”

She crossed the room to the wardrobe and pulled out two gowns. Another spike of pain pinched Sarah’s heart when the rest of the dresses hanging in the chiffonier were unrecognizable to her. Her eyes, stinging with unshed tears, moved to the gowns Karen had laid out on the bed. They were exquisite, each with hand-beaded bodices and airy, chiffon skirts.

“I took it upon myself to procure you both an appropriate gown for the ball, as you have arrived only just before.” Karen smiled. “I shall leave it to you to decide which each of you will wear.” She passed Sarah, who had remained on the threshold of the room, and turned to face the young women. “Come, Miss Ingleby. I will show you the guest quarters.”

Elizabeth offered Sarah a sympathetic expression before following after Karen. Once alone, Sarah closed the door and dashed to the chest at the end of her bed. Even that had been replaced by a grotesquely lavish one. With shaking hands, she opened it and was relieved to see the delicate cloth wrapped around her mother’s bridal gown. Karen had left her that much.

Sarah collapsed to the floor, letting the chest fall shut. She could stay her tears no longer, crushed by life’s bitter inequity.

* * *

Toby was not pleasanter after a good night’s slumber. He spent breakfast throwing his food at Sarah and Elizabeth until Ferris, his nursemaid, removed him from the table. Karen was undisturbed by the display, only making mention of the boy’s natural exuberance.

Neither was Toby pleasanter in the afternoon when he dropped a toad in Elizabeth’s lap as she worked on her needlepoint. He laughed with delight at her squeals, dashing off before Ferris could capture him. Karen turned a page of her book without a word on her son’s conduct.

By the evening, Toby had grown even further unpleasant. Unbeknownst to all, he had procured a bottle of ink and poured its contents in the wash water, spoiling the gowns Sarah had brought back from her trip to the country. The prank had left her with nothing of her own. At her complaint, Karen had said the ruined gowns were unfashionable—that Toby had done her a favor.

Sarah became anxious for the ball, if only to escape the devilish boy.

“Your brother is quite energetic, isn’t he?” Elizabeth asked when the coach let them off near Kingston’s field.

Sarah heaved an exasperated sigh. “Energetic may not be the most accurate word.” She leaned toward her cousin, dropping to a whisper to avoid the attention of her father and Karen. “Monster is the term I would use.”

Elizabeth gave Sarah a reproachful expression. “He is but a child. I am sure he will grow out of it in time.”

“You are right.” Sarah bowed her head, properly chastised. “But if he does not transform from a wicked boy to a princely youth, I will unleash him on you, dear cousin.”

Elizabeth laughed, giving Sarah’s arm an affectionate squeeze. They proceeded down the gravel path, commenting on the fine dress of others headed toward the assembly—all mortals. Elizabeth thought everyone handsome in their stylish gowns and crisp suits. Sarah wondered how her cousin would react upon seeing the otherworldly fashion of the Fae. This batch of mortal finery would appear coarse in comparison.

The party rounded a bend in the path, and the trees seemed to part, revealing a vast moonlit field saturated with music and celebration. Elizabeth inhaled sharply, and Sarah smiled at her cousin’s awe. On the far end of the green, a massive pavilion was set up where guests could seek refreshment and respite from dancing. That was the Williams’ destination, as they would be expected to greet the Kingston family before joining the throng of celebrants.

While they traversed the edge of the meadow, Elizabeth’s eyes shone with wonder as she gazed at the dancers who took up the whole of the field. The revelers were divided into two distinct groups—human and Fae. Sarah noticed a blush rise to her cousin’s cheeks at the more intimate manner the Fae interacted with one another.

“I did not comprehend when you told me the ball would take place at Kingston’s field.” Elizabeth was breathless as she spoke. “I thought it an odd name for a hall, but I see now it is quite literal! What if it rains?”

Sarah glanced up at the clear night sky, a multitude of stars glittering above. “I think we are safe. But should the weather turn, Fae magic will keep us dry.”

Robert beckoned them onward. “Come, ladies. We must pay our respects then you may run off and have your grand time.”

As they approached the pavilion, Elizabeth clutched Sarah’s hand, her anticipation almost palpable. Sarah was not as indifferent as she appeared. Her heart beat in time to the festive music. She was near as eager as her cousin to have the mystery of the Kingston siblings revealed.

In short order, the Williams family and Miss Ingleby were announced, and they were led by an attendant to where the Kingstons stood to greet their guests. Another party had the attention of the royal family, blocking Sarah’s view of the enigmatic offspring of Lord Kingston. Next to her, Elizabeth bounced on the balls of her feet, trying to peer over the shoulders of those ahead of them. She shared a smile with Sarah when the other group finished their compliments and moved on.

Sarah’s gaze passed over the familiar faces of Lord and Lady Kingston, her eyes falling to the three siblings as they were introduced. First, she was taken with the sister, Lady Luella, who bore striking resemblance to her mother’s beauty with dainty, elegant features and an alabaster complexion. She gave the party an graceful bow of her head. Next, Lord Halsey, the younger brother, was named. He bore some resemblance to his father, wider in the shoulders with a square chin, and he wore an unaffected smile, appearing to truly enjoy the festivities.

When Lord Jareth, the heir of the Labyrinth, was introduced, Sarah’s breath caught. She recognized his eyes from her dream two days before. What had escaped her notice then was their peculiarity—one pupil dilated significantly more than the other. Rather than detracting from his handsome, aristocratic features, those eyes added an unearthly quality to him which, with his luminous aura, set him apart from the other Fae she had known.

Elizabeth elbowed Sarah, dispelling the rapture she had fallen under. She offered the Kingstons a hasty curtsey, unable to keep from gaping at Lord Jareth as an embarrassed blush rose to her face. He stared down at her with an austere expression, as if he found her lack of decorum offensive. Her cheeks burned crimson as she lowered her eyes.

“Miss Williams!” exclaimed Lord Halsey. “Our father has spoken of you often. I hope you will save a dance for me.”

“Of course, milord.” Sarah curtseyed again before her father ushered them away. She suffered a final look at the family. A chill rose at the nape of her neck when she found Jareth’s eyes upon her.

“Were they not absolutely exquisite!” Elizabeth sighed happily as she steered Sarah through the pavilion. “I think Lady Luella is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. And Lord Halsey—while not as handsome as his brother—has the most dashing smile.” Elizabeth grinned. “Though, Lord Jareth had eyes only for you, dear cousin. The way he stared at you was positively scandalous!”

Sarah’s middle fluttered as she recalled her dream, her lips tingling at the memory of his touch. “You are mistaken,” she said, keeping her voice steady. Elizabeth made as if to protest, but Sarah cut her off. “Perhaps we ought to search out Mr. Locksley and force from him which brother he calls friend— though, I think it obvious now.” 

“Yes, let’s!” Elizabeth grabbed Sarah’s arm as she ran headlong toward the field of revelers. Sarah laughed, forgetting for the moment the unsettling eyes of Lord Jareth as she chased after her ebullient cousin.

Unfortunately, locating Edmund proved to be more of a challenge than they had anticipated. Soon they set aside their mission, choosing to enjoy the celebration instead. As Sarah had predicted, both she and her cousin were engaged for every song. Sarah did not feel quite so put upon as she had at the Masque—Elizabeth’s unaffected gaiety made the assembly tolerable.

After a lively country dance, Sarah waved off a potential partner in favor of catching her breath. She had not gone but two steps toward the pavilion when she found Lord Jareth before her. His sharp gaze discomfited her. Unconsciously, she tucked the stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Miss Williams,” he said in a deep baritone, “would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Sarah blinked, confused for a moment as earlier he had seemed disinclined to enjoy any moment of the ball. “Yes, of course,” she answered out of politeness.

He smiled then, and Sarah found the expression alluring. It was difficult not to gawk at him as he led her through the procession of mortal dancers toward the arena of Fae revelers. Sarah balked when the immortals began to arrange themselves into a waltz. She averted her eyes, unsettled by the Fae’s open display of familiarity, which in human society was only appropriate between a man and his wife—and even then, only in private settings rather than an assembly. If Sarah allowed herself to be led in the waltz by Jareth, the rumors of her conduct would spread through Laborintus like wildfire.

“Come now, it’s merely a dance.” Jareth made derisive noise. “It’s not as though I’m asking you to share my bed.”

Heat rose to Sarah’s cheeks at his insolence. “It is not the safety of my virtue which concerns me but my reputation should I be seen participating in such impropriety.”

Jareth smirked as though he found her defiance an amusement. “I was led to believe you were not so cowardly as to concern yourself with the opinions of others. Pity.”

Sarah knew she should accept his implied invitation to leave, to save her aforementioned reputation. However, she had never been able to forbear from a challenge, and Jareth’s haughty smile dared her to run away like a frightened girl. Lifting her chin, Sarah pushed past him and stormed into the center of Fae dancers. It was, as he said, merely a dance, after all.

Jareth laughed, following her, and pulled her into his arms when he reached her side. As they fell into step with the others, Sarah blushed again, keenly aware of his hand at the small of her back. The warmth of it spread through her middle, stealing her breath. Jareth grinned as if he knew what his touch did to her.

“You are a pretty thing,” he said, spinning her under his arm and bringing her back into his embrace— closer than before. “Quite breathtaking, really. It is unfortunate when such magnificence is wasted on a human—to bloom for so brief a time before withering to nothing.”

Sarah’s eyes widened in stunned offense, and she pulled back in an attempt to put a more appropriate distance between them. “It is unfortunate nobility is wasted on a selfish, unfeeling Fae such as yourself!”

His arm around her waist was firm like iron, forcing her to remain indecently close to him. “Would you have me lie, Miss Williams, like a mortal suitor?” He raised a brow.

Sarah’s ire rose to a peak, battling with the tendrils of attraction taking root within her. How could she find such an insulting man desirable—and a Fae, no less? It was unconscionable. She blamed the intimacy of the dance for her misguided feelings.

“Lie?” she asked as she again attempted to step back. “I am not so fortunate to have been courted, but I am certain any human suitor I might have would know how to keep a civil tongue.”

Jareth found her speech humorous. “Civility, dishonesty—it is all the same. You hide your feelings behind rules of decorum for fear of truthful association.” His hand at her back shifted, slid an inch or so further to the side, drawing her near enough to him that almost nothing remained between them.

“You would see society fall to bedlam, then?” Sarah shook her head, both in disagreement to his argument and in response to the flush heating her face from his physical proximity. “Yes, our baser urges are kept in check by those rules you sneer at, my lord. We are better for it.”

“Indeed.” His breath was warm upon her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, “And yet, you are dancing the ever so scandalous waltz with me. What have your rules to say on that breach of propriety?”

For a brief moment, Sarah had difficulty responding to his question. He smelled like a summer day after a storm, fresh and earthy—a promise of boundless sunshine. In an instant, she recalled from her dream his smile as he leaned forward to—

“I think you mean to be shocking, sir!” she exclaimed too earnestly, unable to hide entirely the effect he had upon her. “An inclination which should not have surprised me.”

“Why should it surprise you when my supposed reputation has preceded me?” Jareth drew back, his expression growing sober. “You have had rumor and conjecture to guide your opinion of me, but you know nothing of my disposition. Do not be so swift to cast me into a role.”

“On the contrary, does not your impertinence of speech and attitude display your nature?” Without waiting for his answer, Sarah rushed on. “That alone would have been enough to prove the rumors true had I not already been made aware of your disposition from a reliable source.”

“Reliable source? Who, pray tell, has informed you of my supposed demeanor?” Jareth’s face was a mask of incredulity, and his hand at her back fell slack, affording her the opportunity to distance herself from him a little.

A voice of reason cautioned Sarah from responding further, as she was not entirely certain if Edmund had been describing Jareth or Halsey. Her injured pride, however, would not allow her hold her tongue.

“I have had the opportunity make recent acquaintance with Edmund Locksley—”

“Locksley!” Jareth’s unusual eyes grew wide. “And what has Mr. Locksley told you?”

“He laid bare those qualities which are found in only the most irredeemable of men.” Sarah regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Even if Edmund had been speaking of Jareth, she had failed to share the amiable traits he had mentioned.

Jareth interrupted their dance, his expression grim. “Oh, did he? It seems you are perfectly decided on my character, then. I shall endeavor to rise to your vaulted expectations of me, Miss Williams.” He bowed. “Enjoy the rest of the celebration.”

He stalked through the mass of dancers before she could utter an apology. Why had she let her temper get the best of her? True, the Fae lord had been insufferable, but it did not excuse her ill-mannered conduct. And worse, she had insulted her father’s employer!

“Did I see Lord Jareth departing with a look of sincere displeasure?”

Sarah leapt at the deep voice. She spun and found Edmund behind her, disappointment apparent on his features.

“Why, Miss Williams, you promised I could witness your first encounter with him!” He clasped his breast as though stricken.

“I am sure his Lordship would not have desired an audience for our conversation.”

“Why ever not?” Edmund gave her a mischievous grin. “Did you thoroughly abuse my friend as I hoped you would?”

“Your friend?” Sarah gaped at the Fae. “But, I thought Lord Halsey…”

“Halsey?” Edmund shook his head. “I find his character…lacking. Kingston—Lord Jareth—has been my companion for more than two centuries. Or rather, I’ve been his.”

Guilt overcame Sarah at the revelation. “I fear I have harmed your friendship.”

“Nonsense.” Edmund waved his hand. “You could no more damage of his opinion of me than I have already—and I have attempted to do so in the most creative ways.” He sighed. “No, I’m afraid Kingston and I are quite stuck with one another despite the valiant effort I’m sure you’ve made.”

His words elicited a small smile from Sarah, though her middle still felt in turmoil.

“Now,” Edmund said, drawing her into his arms, “we had better get dancing before we cause more of a stir than you and Kingston have already.”

Sarah did not fight him, propriety far from her thoughts as she silently replayed her interaction with Jareth. She had made a poor impression on behalf of her father and was determined that, should she ever cross paths with the Fae lord again, she would be the image of civility.

The remainder of the ball seemed a blur to Sarah. She avoided Edmund’s questions regarding her first meeting with his friend, and he let the matter drop. Shortly after their dance ended, he left to find Elizabeth.

Sarah vaguely recalled dancing with Halsey, who was in all ways opposite of his brother, and conversing with Luella, who, Sarah discovered, was every bit as genteel as Edmund made her character out to be. It was a relief when her father gathered her at the setting of the moon. She was exhausted and anxious for the comforts of home, altered though it may be. She wanted to climb into bed without further thought of Lord Jareth or the confusing emotions she experienced at their encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jareth finally makes his grand entrance into the story. :P


	4. Abstruseness of Character

The edges of Sarah’s vision were obscured, fading into indistinct hues as if she had stepped into an incomplete painting. It was a dream—a pleasant one. A field of wild flowers lay before her, lively colors dancing in a gentle breeze. Sarah meandered through the blossoms, inhaling nature’s perfume and reveling in the fresh air. She always felt buoyant outside the confines of home, as if she were only half alive until she mingled with nature. Whether that need for flora and fauna was a part of her Fae heritage, Sarah neither knew nor cared.

The skies darkened, threatening clouds rolling in as the breeze turned into a chill wind. Sarah drew her arms to her chest, warding off the bracing cold. She willed herself to wake before she discovered the source of the sudden shift in the weather.

Abruptly, the scenery changed to the sitting room of her home. She heaved a sigh, hand clasped to her chest. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the storm raged outside. The window latches rattled violently, and Sarah backed away as fear seized her. Why could she not rouse herself?

The windows burst open, leaves and other debris flew in on a blast of air. Sarah covered her face, cowering against the divan she had backed into. _Wake! Oh, please wake!_

“Sarah.”

It sounded as if the wind itself whispered her name, drawn out in an ominous sigh. Sarah opened her eyes and was surprised to find nothing before her. The air stilled, and were it not for the open windows, she could have easily believed it had been nothing more than her imagination. She stepped forward and closed them with a quaking hand.

“Sarah.”

She started at the whisper, her heart leaping. If she refused to turn, would it leave her be? She tried to remain where she was, but her body moved of its own accord, spinning as if to search out the source of her murmured name.

Lord Jareth stood mere inches from her, attired in terrible black armor, his hands on his hips and his lips curled in a cruel smile. “You are no match for me,” he said, his tone mocking.

Sarah wanted to argue she never intended to match him in anything, but her voice fell mute with fright. Power emanated from him like the summer sun radiated heat, overwhelming and eternal. He advanced on her and she retreated.

“Cower before me.” His smile broadened revealing his Fae teeth, pointed and dangerous.

“No.” Her response was born more of instinct than of conscious defiance. Her back touched the glass panels of the window. She turned, seeking a direction in which to flee.

The scene changed again at her movement. No longer was she in the familiar surroundings of her estate. The walls transformed to grey stone, rich tapestries hanging from them. The chamber was filled with delicate furniture, dark wood polished to a gleam. Behind her, the view from the paneless window was of the Labyrinth far below. The maze extended toward the horizon.

“Sarah.”

She trembled at the voice, so near her. She whirled and found Jareth transformed as well. His armor had been replaced with a loose white shirt, open to his waist. An unusual silver-gold pendant hung from his neck, points curling down like a pair of upside-down horns. His hands were bare as he reached to cup her face.

“Let me rule you.” It was a command, despite the tender tone in which it was given. A burnished gold crown briefly adorned his head before dissipating.

“No.” Sarah drew her head back, away from his touch, despite the small part of her that wished to give into his demand.

His expression darkened and all light dimmed in response. In a heartbeat, his armor reappeared, gathering on him piece by piece. He grinned without mirth, closing the gap between them, grasping her shoulders.

“Then fear me!”

He shoved her, and she tumbled over the windowsill.

Sarah woke with a scream upon her lips, her hands thrashing about until they found purchase on her duvet. As her disorientation receded, Sarah sat up, blinking at the bright morning light in her room.

Since her journey home from the country three weeks before, Sarah had dreamt of Lord Jareth often. Each vision magnified the conflicting sensations his presence invoked, fear mingled with enthrallment. That anyone could unsettle her so, even within a dream, put her in a foul temper.  
She could no longer procrastinate speaking with her father. He had once intimated her mother suffering from such dreams, and Sarah desired knowledge of how to arrest these unsettling visions—if it were possible to do so.

She dressed quickly, hoping to catch him before he set off for the castle. Fortunately, little Toby was nowhere in sight as she dashed through the mansion. In nearly a month, he had yet to become an agreeable child. Therefore, Sarah grew defter at avoiding him and his atrocious pranks. She pitied Ferris. The poor nursemaid had not a moment’s peace and was left without support to care for the despicable little boy, not even from his own mother. Sarah did not think too kindly on Karen’s parenting.

Robert was in his study when Sarah found him. He smiled upon seeing her and gestured for her to join him.

“Ah, Sarah,” said he. “I’m pleased you are up and about already, for I have news to share with you.”

Sarah raised her brow. “What news, Father?”

“It’s an invitation—a most distinguished one.” He offered her a vellum envelope.

On the outside, in gold filigree lettering, was her name. She opened it and read the contents in silence. Lady Luella was inviting Sarah and Elizabeth to be her guests at dinner that evening. Sarah hardly knew what to make of the invitation. Her interaction with the youngest Kingston sibling at the ball had been brief at best.

And to dine at the palace meant being in the presence of Lord Jareth. Gooseflesh pricked her skin. She looked up at her father who beamed with pride. “Will you and Karen not be joining us?”

Robert shook his head. “No. Lord and Lady Kingston take residence in their new home this very day. I am to remain with them until they are settled. Karen will accompany me.”

Sarah’s heart fell. To be separated from her beloved father again after being only recently reunited was a heavy weight to add to her mounting troubles. “And Toby?”

“Your brother? He will remain here.” Robert’s expression softened. “Ferris will take care of him, you needn’t fear. However, I wish you would make more of an effort to get to know the lad.” He held up his hand when she balked. “I know he is a difficult child, but you must remember what he has already been through in his short life. To lose a father, then to have his mother remarry and move him away from everything he’s known… Can you not see how it has affected him?”

Sarah lowered her eyes. “Of course, Father. I will do better.” What she felt, however, was not guilt but frustration. Her life had been upended, yet she was expected to make concessions for everyone’s adjustments but her own.

“That’s a good girl.” Robert kissed her cheek. “Now, as to the invitation, you will respond in the affirmative, I hope. Your personal association with the family will do much to increase your future prospects.”

Sarah nodded mutely, understanding the meaning beneath his words. He clearly hoped to see her settled among the Fae.

“Try not to let your temper get the best of you. Immortals make sport of offending our sensibilities, but it is harmless.”

Sarah gave him a wan smile. “I will be on my best behavior.” Perhaps Jareth would be disinclined to any conversation with her after their poor first encounter. That would certainly make the visit smoother.

“See to it.” Robert winked. “Was there something you wished to speak with me about?”

She decided against bringing up her dreams. The subject would surely ignite a long conversation, and upon further consideration, her father would most likely think them to be manifestations of a secret infatuation with the new ruler of the Labyrinth. Though nothing could be farther from the truth, she would rather not embarrass herself in Robert’s eyes.

“No. It was nothing.”

He studied her for a moment, assessing the truth of her statement. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” She held up the invitation in her hand. “I am sure you have preparations to make, and I must tell Elizabeth the news.”

Robert sighed. “Yes, of course.” He embraced her. “I will only be a letter away.”

“I know.”

Robert left her alone in the study to sort out her myriad of feelings. She hoped dinner would not prove disastrous.

* * *

As she had told Elizabeth months before, Sarah had never set foot in the Kingston palace. She had imagined, as a young girl, the dashing Lord and Lady Kingston seated upon enormous twin gilded thrones as mortals and misshapen creatures alike worshiped at their feet. When she grew older, her father had described the castle, explaining that the throne room and adjacent areas were forbidden to all humans except those unfortunate enough to have wished away their younglings. The rest of the citadel was likewise barred for the goblins and other inhabitants of the vast stone maze. Only the Labyrinth’s ruler was permitted to traverse between the divide.

Sarah explained as much to Elizabeth—who had desperately wanted to catch sight of the mysterious goblins—while they waited in Robert’s study for Lady Luella’s summons. Her cousin was crestfallen at the news, but rallied immediately, still finding delight in having been invited to dine with Fae royalty.

There was a soft knock on the door before one of the servants entered carrying a clear crystal orb on a cushion. He gave both young women a brief bow and stepped forward. Robert had instructed them earlier on how to receive a Fae summons, with the warning to keep their eyes closed in order to prevent a most uncomfortable disorientation.

Despite her trepidation for the impending encounter with Lord Jareth, Sarah’s heart raced in eager anticipation. She shared a grin with Elizabeth as the servant held the sphere before them. Grasping her cousin’s hand, Sarah peered into the ball. At first, it appeared ordinary, but then as if sensing her gaze, a prick of light blossomed in its center, opening like a brilliant, multi-colored flower.

Elizabeth gasped. “It’s magnificent.”

Sarah nodded, unable to argue to the contrary. “Shall we?” she asked, raising her free hand toward the crystal. Elizabeth squeezed her fingers in response, her face awash with excitement and unease. Sarah was certain her own expression mirrored her cousin’s.

Closing her eyes, Sarah reached for the orb. She had only a moment to register the cold smoothness of its surface before her entire body prickled with chills. The sensation was disconcerting and exhilarating at once. From one rapid heartbeat to the next, Sarah felt an abrupt pull sideways. The air against her skin changed from the intimate warmth of her father’s study to something cool and formal. She sucked in a sharp breath and heard Elizabeth do the same.

As swiftly as it began, the sensation passed. Sarah, however, kept her eyes firmly closed for a few moments longer. When nothing new transpired, she opened them, anxiously searching her cousin’s face for any ill-effect.

Elizabeth’s grin split her delicate features as she placed a hand against her bosom. “I can hardly imagine traveling thus every day as your father has!”

Sarah returned her smile. “Most likely he’s grown accustomed to it over the years.”

“I doubt I ever could,” Elizabeth said.

Sarah’s reply was cut off as she took in their surroundings. They stood in a grand hall, unequal to any Sarah had before seen or imagined. The stone walls spanned upward to a vaulted ceiling made of stained glass, bathing the long room in a stir of color in the waning late afternoon light.

Blossoming vines ran along the walls, covered in large flowers in brazen pinks, silky lavenders, and soft blues. Cushioned divans and small tables lined the hall, the fine furniture appearing to have been grown and cultivated rather than sawed and sanded. Sarah had difficulty not gaping.

It was breathtaking.

“I have never seen the like,” Elizabeth said next to her with a gasping breath. “Is everything Fae so glorious?”

“Yes.” Sarah nodded. She shook herself, as if to banish some unknown spell. “At least, on the surface. Their souls, however, can be as flawed as ours—perhaps even more so.”

Elizabeth sighed. “You are determined to despise them.”

“No, I’m determined to see past the splendor and know them as they are.” Sarah smiled at her cousin to ease the sting from her remark. At times, she wondered if she were the only human who was not utterly bedazzled by the immortals.

“Miss Williams. Miss Ingleby.” An aged man attended them, bowing deeply. “If you would follow me.”

He led them through a set of beautifully-carved double-doors to the dining hall. The table in the center of the room was large enough to seat more than fifty, but only four occupied the far end. The party, with the exception of Jareth, rose as Sarah and Elizabeth were announced. The Lord of the Labyrinth instead lounged indolently in an ornate chair at the head of the table, examining his gloves as if he found the entire affair beneath his notice. Sarah remembered her father’s warning and refused to allow his Lordship’s uncivil behavior to vex her.

In truth, however, she would have preferred to dwell on his offense. She felt a chill laying eyes on him, recalling too easily his uncharacteristic tenderness when he asked to rule her—and his horrid expression as he pushed her from the window. Though she reasoned that none of it had, in fact, occurred, the experience was too vivid for her to entirely discount it.

“Miss Williams, I’m so glad you and your cousin could join us,” Luella said after the appropriate bows and curtseys. “Won’t you sit down?” She indicated the chairs next to her and Halsey, the furthest away from Jareth.

Sarah moved to obey, but before she could lower herself, Jareth glanced up. “Oh no, Miss Williams. Not there.” He smirked. “I’ve saved a special place for you.” He waved a hand toward the seat on his right.

Sarah looked to Luella for help, anxious to avoid being so near his Lordship, but found none from the Fae woman. Having no other recourse, Sarah went to take the seat with some trepidation. Jareth stood then, pulling out the chair for her. His fingers brushed her arm before he settled himself again. From the rakish grin he gave her, there was no doubt the touch had been deliberate. Sarah turned away as color rose to her cheeks in embarrassment and frustration, all hope of Jareth overlooking her during this visit vanishing.

“Well, now that we are properly arranged,” he said, “let us commence our evening repast.” He clapped twice.

At once, where there had been naught but silverware before them, bowls of steaming soup and glasses of white wine appeared. Elizabeth let out a surprised squeal before clamping a hand over her mouth.

“You must pardon my cousin,” Sarah said. “She is from the northern country and unused to casual displays of magic.”

Luella gave Elizabeth a kindly smile. “It is quite all right.”

“Yes,” Jareth said, “to have someone in our midst who bears no bitterness toward the Fae is refreshing, indeed.” His expression was mild, though his gaze was directed at Sarah.

Sarah affected a smile in spite of his veiled accusation. “I am not bitter toward your people.”

“Just myself, is it, then?” Jareth raised a brow. “I do find it telling you so quickly assume I was addressing you, Miss Williams. Perhaps I was speaking of others.”

“Quite right, Kingston,” Edmund said. “I, myself, have grown jaded toward immortals over the centuries. Really! They have infested this land with their beauty and majesty. Positively dreadful, if I may say so.”

Luella laughed. The sound was not unlike tinkling bells. Soon, the others joined her, including Sarah, though her own laughter was forced. She was grateful for the silence that followed as they finished their soup. More than once, she felt certain Jareth’s eyes were upon her. She refused to look, however, already too unsettled by his proximity.

“How is your father, Miss Williams?” Halsey asked when they began their next course—rosemary chicken with sprigs of asparagus.

Sarah was glad for the innocuous subject. “He was well when we left him. As you know, he and Mrs. Williams are to accompany your parents to their new home.”

“Yes. My father is quite enamored with yours.” Halsey grinned. “It would not surprise me if he used every enticement to convince Robert to remain in his service.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “But our estates are here, in Laborintus.” The idea of having her life further uprooted was insupportable.

Jareth made a derisive sound. “What? Is the country too dull for you? Or perhaps it is the heat of the south you find so off-putting?”

“Neither, sir.” Her cheeks reddened in irritation. “I merely stated fact.”

“Your words were precise, no doubt, but your eyes spoke the greater truth.” He leaned toward her, resting his cheek in his hand, his fresh earthen scent overpowering. “You’re like a precious little gem, aren’t you? Too pretty to hide away in the country. No, you need a multitude to bask in your radiance.”

“I would never presume to seek the admiration of others.” Sarah’s blush deepened. The man was galling! “If you mean to provoke me, you shall not succeed.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “But I have already.” He stroked a finger across her cheek. Sarah jerked away from the intimate touch, her middle constricting from both that cursed thrill he evoked in her and her revulsion at his uncouth conduct.

“Jareth!” Luella exclaimed. “Enough, dear brother, or I fear my new friend might never call on me again.”

“Perhaps that was my design all along.” His gaze flicked back to Sarah. His cavalier dismissal made her hands clench in anger. “Or perhaps I am simply continuing the game Miss Williams began at the ball.”

Sarah frowned. “Game? Of what do you speak? I am not involved in any game.”

“Yes, you are.” He settled back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “You affronted me. I am entitled to return the favor.”

“To my recollection you were the one who offered the first insult.” Sarah paused in attempt to rein in her temper. She had promised her father she would be the model of civility, after all. “I do regret, however, that I rose to the bait you laid before me. I apologize for my offenses, Lord Jareth, and ask that we may begin anew.” The words were difficult to utter.

He stared at her for a moment before bursting forth with laughter. “What an eloquent speech. Truly worthy of every etiquette lesson your governesses drilled into you. But please, let us refrain from lies.”

“Lies!” Sarah bit her tongue before she could unleash her indignation in full. If he would but stop this unbearable behavior, she could more reasonably keep her word to behave.

“Come, come now, Miss Williams. You and I both know you meant not a single word.” Jareth waved his hand as if to dismiss her apology. “You do not regret attempting to humble me. You certainly are not sorry for any offense you may have caused me. And I doubt very sincerely you have any real desire to begin a new intercourse with me. In fact, I believe you would be quite content if you were to never associate with me again.”

Sarah glowered at the insufferable man. “And you, sir, only prove correct my original assessment of your character.” She would have to explain to her father later how hard she tried to be civil with his Lordship. Robert would understand, would he not? No mortal could withstand such effrontery.

“Ah, yes. You have labeled me the cad.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I suppose I ought to give you my thanks. It’s terribly freeing to no longer be bound to decorum in your presence.”

“You were never bound to decorum in the first place!”

“True.” He flashed his teeth in a feral grin. “Now, however, I don’t have to pretend to ask forgiveness for my… What did you call it? My irredeemable character. Does my manner please you? I am, after all, only fulfilling your expectations.”

Sarah was startled by clapping. So engrossed was she in her argument with Jareth, she had altogether forgotten the others.

Edmund stood, continuing his applause. “Well met, Kingston! I believe that round went to you.” His face was full of unadulterated amusement as he took his seat once more. “Is she not everything I said?”

Jareth smirked, his blue eyes traveling indecently down her form. “Everything and more.”

Sarah nearly demanded to be excused that instant. Never had she endured a more terrible outrage. “I am not to be had as sport!”

Luella spoke up. “No, she is my guest. And you two will stop this immediately.” She turned to Sarah. “Please forgive them. I know you have some familiarity with the Fae, but I see now it is not enough to understand our love for debate.” 

“I was unaware trading insults counted as debate.” Sarah’s anger was too fresh for her to return to any semblance of good manners.

“But of course it does,” Edmund said. “Everything is debatable. Even the weather.” He sighed. “However, now Lady Luella has gone and ruined the game. What a selfish hostess you are.”

Luella rolled her eyes. “I think you have had enough amusement for the evening. It was my intention to befriend Miss Williams and her cousin, not chase them off.”

“Yes, perhaps we ought to attempt to be more gracious,” Halsey agreed.

“_We?_” Edmund snorted.

Jareth sat up and pinned Halsey with a steely gaze. “You are not in a position to pass judgment, brother. You will refrain from further comment on the matter.” A strained, silent exchange passed between the brothers before Halsey lowered his eyes. 

The mood became still, tense as if the air itself had become thick. It was then, with much embarrassment, Sarah remembered her cousin, who had remained quiet throughout the ordeal. Sarah found Elizabeth staring wide-eyed at the group and instantly wished she could offer her a comforting hand. The conversation must have been overwhelming for the gentle young woman.

“Miss Ingleby,” Edmund said, having noticed their neglect of Elizabeth as well, “what think you of this ill-mannered lot, now? Will you swear off all future association with our kind?”

Elizabeth opened and closed her mouth several times before she could formulate a response. “This has been…most enlightening. Thank you.”

All four Fae laughed at her comment, but the gaiety was light in nature, lacking any hint of mockery. Sarah could not join in, however. She, instead, imagined how she must have looked through Elizabeth’s eyes as she argued with Jareth. Shame filled her as surely as indignation had but moments before. Why had she debased herself by meeting him at his level?

“Shall we retire to the other room for tea?” Luella asked, standing. Others murmured in assent.

Sarah began to rise, but was stopped by Jareth’s hand over hers. “A word, Miss Williams,” he said.

She hesitated before nodding, resolving to hold her tongue. Jareth waved the others on, and only when they had gone did he stand, pulling her up with him. He did not release her hand.

“You’re offended.” It was not an inquiry.

Sarah nodded again.

A corner of his mouth twitched in a half-smile. “And wisely mute, I see.” When she made no reply, he continued, “I will not offer you false apologies. I always speak honestly, even if the truth is uncomfortable to hear. You had better get accustomed to it.”

She frowned at his declaration. “Why?”

“My sister intends to develop a rapport with you during her time in Laborintus. I doubt this will be the last time you and I cross paths. If not for any generous feeling on my behalf, then for her sake, I admonish you to learn our ways.”

Sarah had trouble keeping a scowl from her face. Again, she was required to alter herself for the sake of others. “I assume you make this request because of your own inability to learn human ways.”

Jareth grinned. “Oh, I can feign that which you call propriety well enough. However, you are a guest in _my_ home. Do not those silly mortal rules demand your acquiescence to my needs?”

Sarah stared at him. How easily he manipulated social niceties to his advantage! “Yes,” she answered, though it was grudging.

“I am pleased we have struck an accord.” He drew her hand to his lips but paused before giving her a polite kiss. His eyes grew distant, brows knitting together. “Hm. That is inconvenient,” he said to himself.

He returned his gaze to her. “It seems I am called away. Do offer my regrets to the others when you join them.” He brought her hand up again and, smiling, placed a kiss not over her fingers but on the inside of her wrist. It was brief, sending a thrill through her middle. Sarah snatched her hand back, flushing brilliantly. Jareth laughed as he backed away from her.

She attempted a hasty exit, rubbing at the ghost of his lips on her wrist. But before she could take more than three steps, Jareth called out to her.

“Oh, and Miss Williams?”

She turned, fretting over what else he might subject her to for his amusement.

“I offer fair warning.” His smile became predatory. “Our game is far from over.” His laughter echoed in the hall as his form grew indistinct until nothing remained before her but his aureate dining chair.

Sarah stared after him, mouth agape. She could not make sense of the riot of emotions he induced in her—anger, fear, and something akin to attraction. And despite her earlier protestations, she had no understanding at all of his manner.

Was he the man who wished to ensnare her affections? Or one who would see to her doom? Or was he something else entirely?


	5. Mysteries and Revelations

Lady Luella, not wanting Sarah to think dinner had proved calamitous, sent word the next day that she and Halsey were required in Aulderon for a time. She expressed her earnest desire to continue their intercourse as soon as she and her brother returned.

A fortnight passed before Sarah heard again from the Kingstons and their companion, and she was contented. Though Lord Halsey and Lady Luella seemed perfectly affable, Sarah would prefer not be thrown into the presence of Lord Jareth again if it could reasonably be avoided. As for Mr. Locksley, her pleasant feelings toward him had been marred by his conspiring to use her for entertainment.

She instead spent her energies on exposing dear Elizabeth to every diversion in Laborintus to be had by mortals. On this day, the cousins meandered arm-in-arm through the bustling commerce district. They were accosted every third step by street vendors anxious selling their wares: handcrafted trinkets, elixirs for lasting beauty, flowers, perfumes, and decadent confections. A pair of filthy-cheeked urchins darted between the young women, pausing only long enough to beg for coin. Sarah gave each a farthing with the cheerful admonition to spend their fortunes wisely.

“Laborintus is so delightfully lively!” exclaimed Elizabeth as they strolled the cobblestone streets. “In Merton, we are a dilatory people—never rushing about. I think I prefer the excitement here, though I fear I’m doomed to the countryside forever.”

Sarah gave her cousin an affectionate squeeze. “Oh, let us chase away such melancholy thoughts! I would gladly adopt you as my sister and force my father to give you the guest quarters permanently.”

Elizabeth laughed. “My mother might not be amenable to losing her only daughter.”

“We could lend you to her for a visit from time to time,” Sarah replied with a grin. “However, I could do no more than that, being the selfish creature I am.” Suddenly sober, Sarah clasped her cousin’s arm. “Dear Elizabeth, I never knew how alone I am until now. Please stay with me as long as you are able.” Sarah’s cheeks colored at the unbidden confession, but she made no attempt to recant. Lately, Elizabeth had been her only friend during these discordant times.

Tears shone in Elizabeth’s gentle eyes. “Of course.” She patted Sarah’s hand. “I am yours as long as you ever need.”

Sarah beamed at her dearest relation. “How you indulge your poor cousin! I am indebted to you always.”

“You could repay my kindness by pairing me with some handsome gentleman of fortune—one who resides here in Laborintus.” Elizabeth’s hands flew to her mouth as soon as the words were spoken, a rosy blush rising in her pale complexion.

Sarah’s eyes widened in astonishment at her cousin’s brazen declaration, but laughed a moment later. “It seems you have grown too comfortable with my love for candor. I’m afraid Aunt Mary will regret ever letting you visit!”

Elizabeth dropped her hands in apparent relief and joined in Sarah’s levity. “If I am forbidden from your influence when I return home, then I shall soak up what I can.” Her statement was tentative, lacking the same confidence Sarah had when dispensing such frankness, but it elicited another laugh from Sarah, nonetheless.

“Miss Williams! Miss Ingleby!” called a masculine voice.

Ahead, Sarah was perplexed to find Lord Halsey waving and hastening toward them. He was fetching in his top hat and coat, though Sarah wondered at his presence in a place where noblemen such as he rarely deigned to visit.

Sarah and Elizabeth gave Halsey deep curtseys when he joined them. His smile was radiant as he bowed. It was his best feature, and though not as august in appearance as his brother, Halsey was alluring in his own right.

“You must forgive my intrusion,” said he, “but I first called on you at your home and was told you had gone to the marketplace. I could not wait for your return.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed, worried he had pressing news of her father—and not the pleasant sort—but smoothed her features quickly. “Why, if I may be so bold to ask, are you so anxious to meet us?”

As if sensing her fear, Halsey shook his head. “Oh, my celerity is not born from some dire need. I apologize for causing you any anxiety.” He grinned. “I came to issue an invitation for you both to join us for tea this afternoon. We’ve only returned from Aulderon this morning and are already restless to hear from our new friends.”

“But you could have left word with the servants, milord. You needn’t have created a stir among my poor fellow mortals,” Sarah said, nodding toward the now-silent vendors who gaped at the Fae Lord, “by descending upon this place in all your glory.”

Halsey took in the scene and chuckled. “I ought to have disguised myself better, it seems.”

“Better? If this was an attempt to hide your true nature, it was a very poor one.” Sarah smiled, certain he understood there was no real censure in her remark.

“You’ve caught me out.” Halsey spread his hands in defeat. “I will admit I made no effort to appear as anything but the nobleman that I am. And, if I’m divulging all my secrets, I did not leave word with your servants because I wanted to give you a surprise. I hope you will put my apprehension to rest by telling me it was a happy one.”

Sarah’s grin broadened. “It is most agreeable to see you, Lord Halsey. And we’re flattered that you would feel anxious to greet us upon your return from court.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. “Yes, as surprises go, this is one of the happiest.”

“Your words are a great consolation,” Halsey replied, relaxing visibly. “Now if you tell me that you accept the invitation, my day will be that much brighter.”

Disquiet seized Sarah’s bosom as she recalled her last visit to the castle. “Will Lord Jareth also be in attendance?” She hadn’t meant to be so plain, but she was unsure if she was yet ready to face the impudent ruler of the Labyrinth.

Halsey’s smile fell momentarily before it widened again—though it no longer touched his pale eyes. He gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Whether or not my brother would join us, I cannot say. He has been lately taken by his assiduous duties. But you won’t let his rather audacious manner prevent you from coming, will you?” There was such earnestness in Halsey’s expression that Sarah felt declining his invitation would do him harm.

“Of course we’ll accept. I merely wished to be forewarned if I am to be subjected to another battle of wits,” she said, quietly hoping Jareth would avoid making an appearance altogether.

At this, Halsey laughed. “I sense a resolve in you, and I doubt my brother could ever again best you in another clash of wills.” His expression grew somber. “Though, I will say he has done you a great disservice.”

Sarah frowned. “A great disservice? How so?”

Halsey made as if to reply, but closed his mouth as he looked past the young women. “I am sorry for refusing to clarify my cryptic statement at this time,” he said with an apologetic smile, “but I must take my leave of you just now.” He gave them both a gracious bow before dissipating into the ether.

Elizabeth let out a small gasp. “I believe I will never become used to immortals vanishing in that manner.”

“It can be alarming,” Sarah replied distractedly, her thoughts taken with Halsey’s parting comments. What had Jareth done which could have caused her harm? She had suffered no recrimination from that nearly opprobrious waltz, and only those in attendance at dinner were privy to her last heated discussion with the lord. In fact, in her father’s recent correspondence, he mentioned with no small amount of pride the glowing report of her conduct that had reached Lord Kingston’s ears. That Jareth might have said or done something since to injure her reputation, perhaps out of spite for her willfulness, unsettled Sarah and deepened her feelings of scorn toward him.

“Well, well, well.”

Sarah started at the deep voice and spun to find Edmund Locksley wearing his usual rakish grin. She was disinclined to return the smile, however, still affronted by his behavior at dinner. “Mr. Locksley.” Sarah gave him the barest of curtseys.

“Look at your pretty little scowl,” said he, giving her an equally bare bow of his head. “I’ve spoken one word and already I’m despised. Perhaps I shouldn’t have repeated it thrice. You mortals have a multitude of strange rules when it comes to convention. How do you remember them all?”

Sarah shook her head. “You are mistaken, sir. My displeasure stems entirely from our last encounter.” She grasped Elizabeth’s arm and ushered her toward one of the nearby shops. Elizabeth tossed the Fae a remorseful expression before clinging loyally to Sarah.

Edmund, however, was not so easily evaded and stepped into the narrow weaver’s shop after them. He perused a selection of ribbons near the pair of young women. “Your new dislike of me pains me so, Miss Williams. Allow me to buy back your affection.” He held up a silky blue ribbon with delicate flowers, a wide smile upon his lips.

“My affection is earned, Mr. Locksley.” Sarah’s tone was curt. “It cannot be bribed from me with pretty trifles.”

“Ah.” Edmund nodded, replacing the ribbon with an exaggerated sigh. “Then whatever shall I do without my favorite conversationalist? Life will be exceedingly dull without your repartee.”

Sarah looked upon him with narrowed eyes. “Your effort with flattery is also futile.”

“No bribery? No flattery? Why, Miss Williams, you are determined to ruin all pleasure in life.” He pushed between Sarah and the display of wares she was admiring. “I am as determined, however, to coax a smile from you.”

Sarah raised her chin in irritation. “Why? So you may pretend to be my friend then deliver me to Lord Jareth like a fox for the hunt?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Edmund said, his tone jovial despite her biting remarks. “You only pout because you discovered him to be a greater adversary than I have ever been.”

“Pout? Hardly!” Sarah scoffed. “But note even you describe our association as adversarial. Did he not, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s wide eyes darted back and forth between the two, and she appeared as though she wished to be left out of the discussion entirely. Sarah felt a twinge of shame for inducing her cousin to take sides, but before she could apologize, Edmund spoke first.

“Miss Ingleby, I’m afraid we are being very ill-mannered, aren’t we? Here, let me prove I am still a gentleman.” He picked up another ribbon, this one a pale pink with a verdant fleur-de-lis pattern. “Would you accept this as my penance for your discomfort?”

Exasperated, Sarah snatched the ribbon from his hands. “Please refrain from toying with my cousin.”

“Oh, I am all restraint and propriety with you ladies,” he said with an ostentatious bow. “You’ve no understanding of how restrained.” Danger glinted in his eyes and his smile turned predatory. Sarah took an unconscious step back, pulling Elizabeth to her side.

Edmund sighed. “And now we’ve gone and become somber and gloomy. Forgive me quickly, Miss Williams, so we can return to more amusing topics.”

“Mr. Locksley, you are endlessly incorrigible!” The alarming glimpse of his character unnerved her, however.

“That is the point of being immortal.” An easy smile returned to his features. “What say you, Miss Williams? Shall we shake and be friends again? From this moment, I promise by no doing of mine will you be the fox for Kingston’s hunt—especially since you do the job well enough on your own.”

Sarah wanted to let out a very unladylike huff of frustration, but abstained from the act. “I have trouble seeing you as anything but a rascal.”

“But an honest one, no doubt.” Edmund put forth his hand. “Am I forgiven, yet?”

“Forgiveness _is_ a virtue,” said Elizabeth in a quiet voice when Sarah made no move to accept Edmund’s hand.

“Yes! Thank you, Miss Ingleby.” He turned to Sarah, hand outstretched. “Let’s be virtuous.”

Sarah looked heavenward before taking his hand. She was certain she would regret renewing her association with Edmund, as he was a loyal companion to the man she most disliked. “It is for Elizabeth’s sake that I make amends.”

Edmund grinned at the severity in her tone. “I will gladly take your friendship in any manner it is given.” He kissed the top of Sarah’s hand before releasing it. “Shall I escort you both to your home? I believe you have to dress for an engagement.”

“But how did you know?” Elizabeth asked, stunned by his prescience.

“Why, I received the very same invitation an hour ago from Lady Luella.” He offered an arm to each of them. “Shall we?”

The ladies linked their arms with his, and without warning, the world became a dizzying whirlpool of colors. Sarah gasped, pressing a hand over her eyes. She had not considered that he would use magic to transport them home. The strange sensation left her giddy.

Fortunately, the trip lasted no longer than a heartbeat or two. Sarah opened her eyes when Edmund released her arm. They were in the gardens of the Williams’s estate. A gardener, paused in the act of weeding, looked up at them with a hand pressed against his breast in utter shock. He returned to his work, muttering under his breath about the Fae taking liberties with their magic. “Could get a man killed, that’s what,” he groused.

Edmund, unaffected by the complaints, bowed low before Sarah and Elizabeth. “I must be off to let your coachman know you’ve already returned.” He produced two ribbons—the very same he had offered each before. “Favors to mark our mended friendship.” When Sarah balked, he said, “Never fear. The shopkeeper has been generously compensated.” 

Sarah and Elizabeth took the ribbons, offering him swift curtseys and thanks—grudging on Sarah’s part.

“Oh, and as your friend,” said Edmund, “I counsel you to take care in your acquaintance with Halsey Kingston.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Sarah asked. “Of the Fae I have known, he is the most amiable and decorous.”

Edmund nodded. “Precisely.” He winked before vanishing—quite literally.

Elizabeth turned to Sarah, confusion troubling her eyes. “What do you suppose he meant?”

“I wish I knew.” Sarah caressed the silken ribbon in her hand. “Perhaps it is merely another Fae game.”

They had twice received puzzling comments in the same number of hours, and Sarah would rather fret about neither.

“Come,” she said, urging her cousin toward the mansion, “let’s change out of these dusty gowns.”

* * *

Much to Sarah’s relief, Lord Jareth was not in attendance for tea; his duties prevented him from joining them. The conversation rambled between various topics, most of which were related to the Fae. Luella described the latest in court fashion while Sarah and Elizabeth listened with awe, marveling at the beautiful images her narrative invoked. Edmund interjected his own commentary on how those fashions might be improved upon. Every suggestion he made was either ridiculous or indecent, and soon the women ignored him entirely.

Halsey remained pensive during most of the discussion and only came alive when Luella began to expound on the recent scandal which had required their presence in Aulderon—a clandestine romance between a Fae and a human.

“When King Phillip made his proclamation, the anguish in Lady Andra’s eyes nearly tore my heart in two,” said Luella as she leaned back in her cushioned chair. “I had secretly hoped the crown would support the relationship.”

“I pity them, to be sure,” replied Halsey. “However, I agree with His Majesty. A guardsman is not an appropriate candidate for Elevation.”

“Elevation?” asked Elizabeth. “I don’t understand.”

“It is something rarely talked about among even our own kind.” Halsey leaned forward as if revealing a great secret. “A Fae can easily fall in love with a human—we are as subject to whim and fancy as you  
are, perhaps more so—but seldom is such a relationship ratified. And even more seldom is the human granted Elevation—the chance to become immortal.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. Though she had thought herself fairly expert on the ways of the fair folk, she had never heard of this. “You can change a human into Fae?” The notion seemed incredulous.

Luella shook her head. “No, only those who already have Fae blood could wholly become one of our kind. In the case of a full human, Elevation merely stops them from aging.”

“Elevation is almost never granted,” said Halsey. “We are very discerning when bestowing that gift.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but it seems inequitable to withhold immortality in this way,” Sarah said. “Is it not like knowing the cure to a disease and refusing to share it but for a select few?”

“Only if you consider life to be a disease.” Halsey steepled his fingers beneath his chin, reminding Sarah briefly of his elder brother. “Can you say every human deserves immortality? Would you grant eternal life to those who reside in your skid rows—they who would thieve and plunder and inflict every abuse infinitely?”

“Do you then force those Fae of ill-repute to become mortal?” Sarah asked. “Surely not every immortal deserves eternal life.”

Edmund, previously disinterested in their discussion, perked up at Sarah’s remark. “She has you there, Halsey. I know of a few Fae who are unworthy of their birthright.”

Halsey glanced at Edmund, his eyes hardening a fraction as Edmund grinned at him. After a moment, Halsey turned back to Sarah. “I have no easy answers for you, Miss Williams. Indeed, it seems unfair, but that is the way it is.”

“Well, I say we put forth a petition to the king immediately.” Edmund raised his hand aloft as though holding a scepter. He spoke in a deep voice, his features grave. “I decree from henceforth all deserving humans will be Elevated so their goodness can go on indefinitely. And all undeserving Fae will be de-Elevated so their evil influence may come to an eventual end. And so shall it be forever and ever.”

Luella laughed and Edmund bowed—his ready grin back upon his lips. However, by the glower Halsey gave Edmund, he did not find the performance amusing in the least.

“I will admit,” Luella said after sobering, “there are times when I believe the stricture on Elevation too severe. Not all who were refused were unworthy of the gift.” She paused in her speech, as if deciding whether or not to divulge more. “Miss Williams, I wonder what you know of your Fae heritage.”

Sarah frowned, uncertain that she cared for the new turn in the conversation. As a girl she used to press Robert on the issue, but he withheld, saying she was too young for knowledge of her lineage. When she was of age, her interest had wavered. She believed her father’s reticence to be indicative of a most unsavory tale.

“I know very little aside from my grandfather having been one of the fair folk,” she answered. “My father hasn’t spoken of it.”

Luella nodded as though suspecting as much. “There is tragedy, and I’m sure your father wished to protect you from it.”

Sarah’s curiosity was piqued even as dread stirred in her chest. “But you know it.”

“Indeed,” said Luella. “Your grandfather had been acquainted with our family—a dear friend of my father’s, in fact.”

Sarah made no reply, heedlessly gripping the armrests of her chair in apprehension as she waited for Luella to continue.

“While riding in the countryside on a mild spring day,” the Fae woman began, “Baldric—your grandfather—happened upon a maiden gathering wildflowers. His inaugural attraction was to her song rather than her beauty—though she had that in spades. At first, he believed her to be another immortal, so angelic was her voice. And certainly no mortal man would allow a daughter so statuesque to roam the hills unaccompanied.

“Cara, however, was human and wholly undaunted by the Fae. Baldric found her utterly irresistible, and when he attempted to lure her away, she unflinchingly declared that his life would be spent in misery should he succeed in stealing her from her lands. Unused to such barefaced rejection, Baldric faltered in his designs and left Cara to her flower-plucking.

“He began to ride the same countryside daily in hopes of catching a glimpse of that willful, beautiful creature. It was more than a week before he discovered her again near a babbling brook, and he resolved to tempt her again to come away with him—for one always wants most that which one cannot have.

“He approached her under the guise of friendship, hoping she would be swayed by his charms. Cara, however, was far too clever—his ruse as transparent as the air to her. Again she swore to her last breath he would have a wretched existence if he carried her off. Again he left her, baffled by her immunity to his allure.

“For many months he came to her as she walked the countryside and was each time rebuffed. But with each visit, they talked—of trifling things at first, but gradually their conversations grew in length and depth. Baldric’s infatuation became something more and Cara’s threatenings became less bold until love blossomed between them.”

Luella paused here, sadness clouding her eyes. “If Cara had been born to privilege as you have been, Miss Williams, perhaps the story might have turned out differently. She had the misfortune to be a daughter of a simple farmer, and no matter her indomitable spirit and admirable nature, the king would not grant Baldric’s petition to have her Elevated. He would not have their marriage ratified. Baldric, you see, was not just any Fae—but the king’s beloved nephew and next line for the throne when the king retired.”

“Nephew!” exclaimed Elizabeth, her hands going to her mouth in astonishment.

Sarah could hardly believe Luella’s words. Her grandfather a prince? Surely the Fae woman was embellishing the tale!

“Yes, Miss Williams,” said Edmund with a mischievous grin. “You not only have Fae blood—which you find so distasteful—but the highest sort.”

“Which is why the marriage could not be born,” Halsey replied. “An immortal prince and a human farmer’s daughter? It was unconscionable.”

“Yes,” Luella said. “But his love too great to be set aside, Baldric forswore his titles and lands to be with Cara—much to the disappointment of King Phillip. Baldric and Cara married, and through considerable effort, Baldric was able to provide a comfortable living for them. It was many years before they were able to conceive their only child—your mother, Miss Williams—and the three were very happy.

“They remained so until Cara was taken with consumption. Lynda was of age then, and Baldric remained only long enough to see her settled with Robert Williams. Unable to bear further separation from his beloved, Baldric took his life.”

Elizabeth gasped. “But he was immortal still, was he not?”

“We Fae are immortal, but not indestructible,” said Halsey. “We are impervious to the maladies you may suffer from, and we would survive wounds that would be mortal in humans, but with the proper weapons, we can be killed.”

Sarah only half-listened as the discussion went on. Her heart was pained for the unjust fortunes of her grandparents. She thought of her mother who had herself passed on when Sarah was very young. Had that been Fate’s reparation for Baldric’s rebellion?

“Miss Williams,” said Luella, drawing Sarah out of her mournful thoughts, “have I done you ill in telling you?” Her brow furrowed with worry.

“No, no, of course not.” Sarah kept her voice steady, though her eyes stung with tears. “I had always thought it must be some great tragedy, and now I know it was.”

“Oh, but it is a beautiful tale also,” said Luella. “A favorite among the Fae.”

“Beautiful?” Sarah frowned. “I cannot see how it could be so.”

“My father once asked Baldric shortly before he died if love had been worth the cost,” Luella replied in reverent tones. “Your grandfather said if given the chance, he would do the same again—without altering a single moment.” Luella sat back in her chair, her hand going to her chest. “To love with such depth that one is willing to sacrifice all for the other! It is unheard of—especially to those of us who  
must marry out of duty. But to have that exquisite freedom to spend eternity with our heart’s desire… Can you imagine if we all married only for love?”

Sarah could not, though she well knew her obligation to make a good match. After hearing her grandparents’ tale, she thought the anguish of love outweighed any joy to be had.

“But then if we were to forsake those traditions—those rules—society would fall into bedlam, wouldn’t it, Miss Williams?”

All heads snapped up at the derisive baritone of Lord Jareth. He stood in the shadowed corner, leaning against the wall with arms folded. He tilted his head as he stared at Sarah with piercing eyes, waiting for her response.

Chagrin settled over her as she returned his sharp gaze. Must he always bait her? “It would, perhaps, muddle the class system too greatly.”

“Which is why I say we do it at once,” said Edmund with a gleeful wringing of his hands. “Miss Ingleby, shall you and I be the first to break tradition?”

Elizabeth flushed a luminous red. “But we’d have to be in love first,” she said in a near whisper.

Edmund waved his hand, dismissing her remark. “Let’s not quibble over details.”

Luella laughed before turning her attention to Jareth. “How long have you been eavesdropping, dear brother?”

“From the moment you laid out the bleak tale of Miss Williams’s parentage.” He stepped forward out of the shadows. “It was really quite riveting. A sensible allegory on the folly of love.”

Sarah clenched her hands in indignation until her nails pressed painfully into her palms. “You speak as though it were a simple fable for children, comprised of imagined characters. These are my grandparents you mock—people who existed in this world, with heartache and joy the same as you and I.”

Jareth examined his glove as though her argument was hardly worth his notice. “Baldric was like an uncle to me. I knew him well, but a cautionary tale is a cautionary tale.”

Sarah rose from her seat, incensed by his callousness. “Are you never given to kindness, sir? Even for the dead?”

Jareth raised his eyes to hers, cold fire burning in their depths. “I am never given to dishonesty, Miss Williams—even for the dead. Do you deny but moments ago you admitted to only seeing tragedy in my sister’s narrative?”

“I do not deny it.”

“And are we to refrain from using the experiences of others to gain wisdom if they are not ‘imagined characters’?”

“No, of course not. But neither must we be so unfeeling when gaining that wisdom. You lack compassion even for a man you would name uncle, no matter what you may think of his choices. And that, milord, is what I cannot abide.” Sarah’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she issued her recrimination, but her chin was set despite her mounting fear that she had gone too far.

“I do so wish to applaud you, Miss Williams!” Edmund’s exclamation cut through the tension. “May I, without rankling your sensibilities?”

Jareth smirked, though fury still danced in his eyes. “By all means, Locksley, have at it.” He bowed at the waist toward Sarah during Edmund’s ovation, looking not at all pleased. “Miss Williams, I concede this round to you.”

Sarah took little comfort in besting him, however. She was still bothered by the idea of these impassioned debates being nothing more than entertainment. Her limbs shook with ire and anxiety each time Jareth provoked her, and her heart pounded so rapidly she thought it might leap from her breast like a spooked horse. How could this be considered an amusement?

The conversation turned to pleasanter topics as the group divided. Edmund absconded with Jareth to a corner where, by appearances, their quiet discussion was of the serious kind. Sarah had never seen Edmund so long with a grim expression, and Jareth seemed to grow more cross with each word spoken until his hands clenched at his sides.

Abruptly, both men turned twin fell gazes on Halsey. The latter was unaware of the savage scrutiny as he gaily remarked on the temperate weather of Laborintus. Sarah wondered at the bad blood between brothers. She couldn’t think of what Halsey—civil and benevolent—could have done to earn Jareth’s venom. Perhaps it was merely jealousy, as the lord of the Labyrinth seemed inclined to such faults of character.

Sarah let out a soft gasp when she noticed Jareth’s eyes were no longer fastened on Halsey but on her. She fought the urge to shrink from his flagrant stare, and resolute, stared in return. He shook his head, his lips curling with disdain before he turned away. The man was intolerable!

“Miss Williams?” Luella said. She, Halsey and Elizabeth looked at Sarah expectantly, as though waiting for an answer to some question she had not heard.

“I am sorry.” Sarah blushed, embarrassed by her inattention. “You were saying?”

Luella smiled graciously. “I spoke of the Fae opera company which is currently touring. They will be performing here, in Laborintus, in a week’s time. I asked if you and Miss Ingleby would care to attend with us.”

Edmund rejoined the group, his demeanor blithe once more. “Oh, do come, ladies—lest we be subjected to insufferable bores all evening.” His voice took on a nasally quality, face pinched, as he said, “I attended ‘Rosetta’s Handmaiden’ last century and it was performed in D-minor. It was infinitely superior to this drivel.”

“It _was_ superior,” Jareth said, taking a seat next to Sarah on the divan. He glanced at her, his eyes daring her to object to his proximity. Sarah nearly glared at him but quickly remembered he was her father’s employer, and therefore, she must endeavor to tolerate his impertinence. She did, however, inch away from him, frustrated that some disloyal part of her was drawn to him even as she loathed him.

Edmund released a heavy sigh of exasperation. “Kingston, that is precisely the sort of snobbery I’m desperate to avoid.” He clasped his hands like a beggar before Sarah and Elizabeth. “Please liberate me from lengthy dissertations on how music is the soul of man and Fae alike and must be examined from every infinitesimal angle.”

Sarah smiled at his impassioned plea, exaggerated though it was. Of course, consenting would most assuredly mean another encounter with Lord Jareth, but she had dispatched him rather handily this time. Perhaps the next meeting would not be too deleterious?

She turned and reached a hand toward Elizabeth. “I think we cannot deny the poor fellow, dear cousin. Shall we put him out of his misery?”

Elizabeth grinned, enthusiasm plain in her eyes. “Most certainly.”

“There you have it, Mr. Locksley,” Sarah said. “We shall accompany you and thwart all snobbery with every ability we possess.” Sarah stole a glance at Jareth, who smirked at her.

Edmund flashed a radiant smile. “My beautiful saviors!”

“Then it’s settled,” said Luella. “I am so glad you will join us.”

“As am I,” replied Halsey, standing. “I fear, however, the hour has grown late. Would you ladies give me the honor of escorting you home?”

Sarah rose also, prepared to accept his offer when Jareth intervened. “That won’t be necessary, brother.” By Jareth’s scornful tone, Halsey had overstepped some bounds, but Sarah could not imagine how. Jareth conjured a crystal with a graceful twist of his wrist and held it forth without rising from his seat. “Allow me.” Again he taunted Sarah with his eyes, willing her to refuse him.

He was never going to leave her be, was he? The revelation vexed Sarah further, but she held her tongue. “Thank you, milord.”

After extending polite goodbyes to the rest of the party, Sarah joined hands with her cousin and took the crystal from Jareth. She refrained from glowering at the lord as they were whipped away by his magic.

Elizabeth gasped, as she had each time they traveled thus, but Sarah’s disorientation had grown milder. As soon as they appeared in the gardens—again startling the servant working there—Sarah stamped her foot with a brief scream. She then became embarrassed for regressing to childhood tantrums and silently blamed Lord Jareth for the lapse.

“How I despise that man!” she lamented to herself. Elizabeth gave Sarah a consoling pat.

“Did you say something, Miss Williams?”

Jareth had come with them! Was there no escaping the irksome immortal? Face aflame—for he had surely heard her exclamation—Sarah turned, keeping her expression perfectly cordial as she said, “You have my thanks for returning us home.”

“Your thanks?” Jareth laughed, shaking his head in frank disbelief. “Why do you persist in these lies under the guise of being a civil lady? We both know you are no such thing—unlike your cousin, here.”

Sarah scoffed at his foul remark. “And you, sir, are no gentleman.”

He shrugged, insensible to her allegation. “You are correct, but then, I never pretend to be what I am not.” He turned to Elizabeth before Sarah could make a retort. “Miss Ingleby, your guileless manner has been refreshing as always.” He kissed her hand. “Now, run along while I have a private word with Miss Williams.” 

Elizabeth curtseyed, and giving Sarah a pitying look, left her with Jareth.

“You cannot order my cousin about as though she were a child!” Sarah exclaimed when they were alone.

He smirked. “And yet, I just did.”

Never in her life had Sarah wanted to strike a man until this moment. “As we are on _my_ lands,” she said with considerable effort to remain civil, “I demand you behave respectfully.”

“Oh, bravo, Miss Williams.” Jareth stepped up to her, clapping with that insufferable grin on his face. “Well done, indeed. You are becoming quite adept our little game.”

“Out of necessity, milord.” Sarah retreated from him, but he continued to advance on her. Her way was soon cut off by a line of thorny rose-bushes. “How does one end this game, as you call it?”

Jareth raised a brow, mischief glowing in his eyes. “End? As an immortal, I know nothing of endings.”

“As a mortal, I know nothing but endings,” Sarah returned with a hint of rancor. “And I wish to discover the ending to this…this intrigue.”

A disconcerting smile stretched across Jareth’s lips. “Be very careful of the words you say, Miss Williams, or one would think you believe there to be something far more illicit between us than there is.” He brushed the line of her jaw with his fingers, and Sarah turned angrily away.

She forcibly quelled that treacherous part of her which found the caress pleasing. Instead she stoked the flames of her growing hatred of Jareth. “Do not ever again take such liberties with me!” she cried, her face flushing.

“I’ve taken no liberties, I assure you,” Jareth said, though he did step back. “Perhaps if you didn’t so easily rise to every provocation, I might not find our ‘intrigue’ so very entertaining. Is this the ending you seek? I doubt greatly your ability to bring it about.”

Sarah opened her mouth to answer with a stinging remark, but thought better of it. If all that was required was a stalwart composure in the face of his many offenses, then it would be her only focus. “Now that I better understand the criteria of our intercourse, I shall endeavor to make it most insipid for you.”

“An idle threat,” Jareth said with a laugh. “But attempt away, nonetheless—with the understanding that I don’t care for losing.”

“Neither do I, milord.” She smiled in return, though it was a brittle thing. “And I shall be certain I never do.”

“Impetuous girl.” He smirked. “You lose with every word you speak.”

Sarah bit her lip to keep from responding in kind. She curtseyed, and drawing her expression to all politeness, said, “My cousin waits for me, Lord Kingston. By your leave, I will go to her.”

The smile vanished from Jareth’s face, and his eyes glinted darkly. Sarah felt a glimmer of triumph at his displeasure, though she kept her features still.

“Very well,” he said. “But you are forbidden from any further interaction with my brother when I am not in your company.”

Sarah tightened her jaw unconsciously. He _must_ be jealous. There could be no other reason for his unreasonable edict. “Though you are Fae and royalty,” she said in serene tones—and not without effort, “you cannot require this from me. My associations are no concern of yours, but I will take your counsel under advisement.” She curtseyed again. “Now, if our business is complete, I should like to return home before Elizabeth worries.” Sarah was quite proud of keeping her composure, despite the lingering desire to thrash him.

Jareth stared at her a moment before shaking his head. “You are determined to remain ignorant even as you cavort so carelessly in my world.” He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist as he had before, and gooseflesh rose over her pale skin. “So be it.”

He bowed and faded from existence.

Sarah thought she might have gained the upper hand this last, but the victory was marred by Jareth’s parting words. As she walked toward the mansion, she found herself wishing she had never met any of the Kingston siblings, but she was too ensnared now in their dealings to escape them.

Would fate never give her a reprieve?


	6. Undesirable Presage of Specters

After a week of somewhat appropriate behavior, Sarah ought not to have been surprised when her young stepbrother chose the evening of the opera to unleash his pent-up mischief. 

Lady Luella had, that morning, sent over gowns she wished to loan Elizabeth and Sarah for the event. Mortal finery was not, in fact, fine enough for the gathering, as evidenced by the exquisite garments they received. 

“Oh!” Elizabeth gasped she fingered the delicate fabric of her dress. “I had thought our gowns at the ball to be utterly breathtaking, but they are so common compared to these.” 

“Indeed.” Sarah held hers up and examined it in the mirror. It was so light, made of layers of pale green silk organza with tiny white filigree embroidery at the waist and hem. “I might have preferred something a little more modest, however.” The gown lacked much by way of coverage at the shoulders and neckline, only a single gossamer strap. 

Elizabeth joined her at the mirror, holding her own light blue gown. “Sarah, I begin to believe that you will only ever find fault with all things Fae.” She sighed as she ran her fingers over the embroidery. “Though, I am inclined to agree with you on this point. Do you suppose we ought to find some sort of shawl before this evening?” 

“That,” Sarah said with a grin, “is a capital idea, cousin. I know just the place.” 

And so the two snatched their bonnets and headed for town, carelessly leaving their gowns lying out on Sarah’s bed. 

Sarah took Elizabeth to see Laborintus’s most skilled lace-maker. The pair spent an inordinate amount of time perusing the beautiful offerings before they each settled on a shawl worthy of their ethereal garments. Sarah had never before found so much pleasure in shopping, even with the knowledge that she would in but hours be confronted with the disagreeable presence of Lord Jareth. 

It was only later, after Sarah’s middle-aged lady’s maid had finished helping Sarah and Elizabeth with their hair did the cousins discover what Toby had done in their absence. 

“Oh, Lucy!” Sarah held up a hand mirror, hardly recognizing her reflection. Lucy had swept Sarah’s dark hair up in an intricate bun made of tightly coiled curls accentuated with silver beads. “I do believe this is your most inspired work yet.” 

The thin servant grinned at the praise. “You’re too kind, mistress. Now, shall I fetch your gowns?” 

Sarah nodded as Lucy retreated, still admiring her handiwork in the mirror. A flutter of excitement rose in her bosom, despite her oft-calloused attitude toward any diversion, new or familiar. She could not begin to image how a Fae opera might differ from a mortal one. 

“I feel as though I might float away from the anticipation,” Elizabeth said next to Sarah. Lucy had fashioned the blonde’s hair in a bun similar to Sarah’s, only with her face framed by golden spirals. “Oh, I do hope we are summoned soon. I might faint from waiting.” 

Sarah smiled. “We must prevent that at all costs, then.” She rose from her chair, unconsciously tightening her robes about herself. “I wonder where Lucy has gotten to. I thought the gowns had been laid out on the bed.” 

As if in answer to her query, her chamber doors burst open with Lucy dragging Toby by the ear by one hand and holding the gowns in the other. The boy took a swipe at her, yelling, “Mama will have your neck for this! Let go of me!” Lucy ignored his threats and yanked harder on his ear. Toby yelped but kept swinging his little fists. 

“Tell your sister what you’ve done, you little beast,” Lucy demanded, dodging a hit from the boy. “Tell her what you’ve done with her gowns.” 

“The gowns?” Sarah drew closer, dread pricking in her middle. “What has he done?” 

“The boy has taken to building a fortress with your gowns, mistress,” Lucy answered. 

“That’s not so terrible, is it?” Elizabeth hastily stood, joining Sarah with a hopeful smile. “Perhaps they can be salvaged?” 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Ingleby.” Lucy’s expression was grim as she held up the ruined garments. “He built it outside in the trees. The gowns are torn and soiled.” 

At this Sarah clenched her fists. “Why, you despicable little miscreant!” She began to lunge at the little devil, but Elizabeth held her back. “You’ll get a sound lashing for this. I’ll see to it!” 

Toby wrestled free of Lucy’s grip. “No, I won’t! Or else Mama will have your neck, too!” He ran off, and Sarah had half a mind to chase him down and give him a whipping herself. 

Before she could take a step, however, the butler entered just inside Sarah’s door. He cleared his throat before announcing, “Lord Kingston awaits you and Miss Ingleby in the sitting room.” 

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh, Sarah! What are we to do?” 

Lord Kingston? Which one? They were expecting a magical summons not an escort! 

Sarah was nearly as panicked as her cousin, but she dared not show it. “We remain calm,” she answered, straightening her posture. “Roger, please tell his Lordship we will be down presently. Lucy, fetch the gowns from the ball. They will have to do. Let us hope Lady Luella will not be irrevocably offended.” 

Everyone given their duty, they worked quickly to clothe the girls. Sarah quelled her anger at her brother as she dressed, refusing to allow him to ruin her evening as well. She would find a way to mete out proper justice later. 

Wrapping her newly acquired shawl about her shoulders, Sarah descended with her cousin to the sitting room. Her heartbeat hastened with each step, fearing that it was Jareth who had come to call on them rather than the more amiable Halsey. Sarah would prefer not to add Jareth’s derision to her already calamitous evening. 

She let out a breath of relief when Halsey greeted them with a wide smile on the other side of the threshold. He was dressed far more casually than she had seen him before: without coat, vest, or hat, and shirt open at the neck. Suddenly, her ball gown seemed too formal. 

She gave him a hurried curtsey. “Lord Halsey! I am sorry we’ve kept you waiting.” 

“Not at all,” he said with a bow. “It is I who must beg your forgiveness for the intrusion. I know you were not expecting me.” 

Sarah could not help returning his grin. Again she wondered why both Edmund and Jareth cautioned so ardently against the man before her. Halsey was all politeness and cordiality. “There is nothing to forgive, I assure you.” 

“Well, then,” he replied. “Apologies aside, you both are stunning. Though, I thought my sister had sent gowns for you. Did you not find them suitable?” 

Sarah frowned. “I fear they have suffered from the devices of my rather troublesome brother. They are ruined beyond all repair.” How she hoped this would not cause offense! “We should like to compensate Lady Luella for the loss.” 

Halsey waved a hand. “You should do no such thing. May I see the gowns?” 

“If that is your wish.” Sarah sent the butler for them. “Though they are truly beyond all hope.” 

“We shall see,” Halsey said, grinning again. 

When the gowns arrived, Halsey examined every inch of them, making indistinct noises when he came across the various tears and stains in the fabric. “You are right,” said he. “These have been thoroughly abused. But—” he looked up at Sarah, “—they are not beyond hope.” 

He ran his hand over the gowns and where his fingers touched the fabric, the soils and rips disappeared. “There,” he said, holding the dresses out. “All better.” 

“How wondrous!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “We are saved!” 

“Not so wondrous, I’m afraid.” Halsey handed them the gowns. “It is merely a glamour.” 

“An illusion?” Sarah asked. “But I thought glamours only worked on mortals and we are to spend the evening in the company of the fair folk.” 

“Most of my kind are too lazy with their glamours to make them invisible to immortal eyes.” Halsey nodded in agreement. “However, I happen to possess some skill with art of illusion. I assure you that no one—Fae and human alike—will see anything but the perfection before you for as long the gowns ever exist.” 

“You have our eternal gratitude, milord,” Sarah said, “but I fear if we exchange our clothes now, we will be late to the opera.” 

“I may be able to help with this as well, if you would allow me.” He reached toward her. 

Sarah nodded, though she was unsure how he intended to hasten things. Nothing seemed to happen, and it wasn’t until Elizabeth let out a cry of shock did Sarah notice that she now wore Lady Luella’s dress and was holding the ball gown. She looked up at Halsey with widened eyes. 

Unaffected that he had so easily switched their clothing, Halsey said, “Now that you are properly attired, shall we be off?” 

Sarah and Elizabeth mutely set the gowns on the divan and went to him. No sooner did they engage him than they were swept away by his magic. When they were deposited near a beautiful hillside pavilion, Sarah released Halsey’s hand without comment. The sun had already sunk below the horizon with only a few rays glowing above in defiance. 

Sarah gave Halsey a surreptitious look as they followed him. Though she had been accustomed to powerful displays from the Fae, the act of changing her attire with magic had been too intimate. The switch had been instantaneous, but Sarah felt exposed, nonetheless. Perhaps more so for the fact of her and Elizabeth’s unqualified vulnerability than any real moral concerns. 

Edmund’s comment about restraint the week before took on new meaning for Sarah, and she clutched tighter her shawl as if it were a shield against the fair folk. 

As they approached the pavilion, Sarah noted that none of the attendees aside from Elizabeth and herself were mortal. She suddenly yearned for the buffer of her fellow kind. Although, Edmund might argue gleefully that she was, indeed, among her own kind if he were privy to her thoughts. The idea disturbed her further. 

Groups parted for the three as they searched for their party. Sarah heard the whispers of others when they passed, only a phrase or two reached her ears, but enough to entice her to flee altogether. 

“—resemblance is uncanny.” 

“—already marked by—” 

“—but Lord Halsey escorts them.” 

“Why does he allow—?” 

“—merely a conquest.” 

“I don’t believe so! See how he’s—?” 

“—scandal, perhaps?” 

“He’s far too intelligent, but—” 

“—no stranger to intrigue, as you well know.” 

Each word made Sarah regret her association with the Kingstons. Was it only a few short months ago that she sat in her aunt’s home, listening to her and Elizabeth speculate over the future heir of the Labyrinth? And now, she was not only vexed at every turn by that very heir, but had become the source of rumor and conjecture. Elizabeth as well! 

However, as much as she wished, circumstances could not be altered and she must bear her situation, no matter how taxing, with every dignity. She raised her chin and kept her gaze straight ahead as they made their way through the crowd to where the Luella, Jareth, and Edmund stood conversing. 

Luella wore a gown similar to those she had loaned Sarah and Elizabeth, only she did not wear a shawl to cover her bare shoulders. Despite the near indecency of her attire, Luella looked as regal as ever. Edmund and Jareth were both dressed much the same as Halsey, though Jareth somehow appeared more fashionable than the other men. To Sarah, it seemed inequitable that the most despicable immortal was also the most handsome. If only the Gods had seen fit to make one’s appearance equal to one’s soul! 

Jareth spotted them first and his eyes hardened at the sight of his brother. Luella’s face, on the other hand, lit up like the sun. “Oh, you came just in time!” she exclaimed. “You both look positively resplendent.” 

“My saviors are here!” Edmund greeted the cousins with enthusiastic kisses on their hands. “Now I can enjoy an opera free of all snobbery. You haven’t forgotten your promise, Miss Williams?” 

“I haven’t, Mr. Locksley,” Sarah replied, though still unsettled to be surrounded by so many powerful Fae. 

Jareth did not greet the ladies; his withering gaze was still directed at his brother. “You escorted them, Halsey.” He stepped forward, anger plain on his features. 

“I thought it far more gentlemanly than sending a summons,” Halsey countered. “Wouldn’t you agree, dear brother?” 

The two stared at one another much as they had at dinner weeks before. The silence was thick around them as the tension drew all eyes to the Kingston party. No doubt more rumors were being conjured in this instant about the mortal girls who had come between brothers. 

Halsey looked away first, and by Jareth’s self-satisfied expression, Sarah guessed he had won the silent battle of wills. A very large part of her secretly wished that Halsey would not cow so readily. Lord Jareth could do with a dressing down from his more decorous brother, she thought. 

No sooner had the tension dissipated than the Kingston siblings and their friend were engaged in polite discussions with other guests, and Sarah and Elizabeth were left to their own company for the most part. This suited Sarah just fine, and she drew her cousin aside so they could better survey their surroundings. 

The attendees were not to sit under the pavilion for the presentation, it seemed, as there were no chairs beneath the silken canopy. Instead the hillside below was bedecked with a multitude of large, thick blankets and ornate pillows. Dressed in livery finer than most mortal attire, servants were lighting tall torches stuck in the ground between the coverings and cushions. The sky, near to full dark, glittered softly with waking stars. Sarah could not make out where the opera was to be performed as there seemed to be no stage. 

“Do they do all of their entertaining out of doors?” Elizabeth asked. 

“I am not so experienced with Fae entertainment to be an authority,” said Sarah. She thought of her own need for fresh air—a need which seemed to dwarf that of any other mortal—but she stifled the burgeoning revelation that she was more like the Fae than she cared to admit. 

She glanced at the Kingstons and found Jareth in particular being accosted by women, each with a beauty that rivaled Luella’s. Sarah hoped one or two would catch his eye and he would forget the simple mortal girl he was bent on afflicting at every turn. Her hope was fruitless, however, as he suffered their attentions with indifference at best until he finally grew tired of their flatteries. 

“Do stop all your incessant simpering,” he said loudly, holding up a hand to stave off further entreaties. “You’ll find neither lover nor husband here. Take your scheming elsewhere.” He then searched the crowd until his eyes found Sarah’s, and ignoring the others, pushed through the throng toward her. 

As he took her hand—without so much as a “by your leave,” no less!—and led her down the hillside, Sarah was keenly aware of the reproachful stares from many of the newly-scorned women. They surely believed her to be the reason for Jareth’s apparent apathy. She wanted to tell them she had no designs on their beloved lord and would, in fact, happily offer him up to any one of them if it meant he would leave her be in peace. Unfortunately, she was not so naïve to believe such a declaration would be received as anything but a falsehood. So, she bore their misplaced resentment without protest, and hated Jareth all the more for it. 

The rest of the Kingston group followed and soon they were all settled on the largest, most stately spread in the center of the hillside. Sarah, though unsurprised, silently bemoaned her misfortune at being placed next to Jareth, who stretched languidly among the pillows. 

“I suppose I ought to find comfort in knowing you are as insulting to your own kind as you have been to mine,” Sarah remarked to her nemesis after a time. 

Jareth raised a brow. “Honesty is never insulting, Miss Williams.” 

“Oh, but it can be, milord,” Sarah replied, “in the manner of its delivery.” 

“Why should I censor my tone when the message is the same? The offense lies not with me, but with those who think themselves too delicate for unpleasant truths.” He turned to Sarah, resting his head in his hand as he narrowed his gaze. “If I had been gentle in my rebuke of those silly girls, each one would have believed my kindness secretly meant for her and all would have dismissed my words. I have no interest in seeding false hope in any one of their empty heads.” 

“I recall a time when you found such false hope rather advantageous, Kingston,” Edmund said with a knowing grin. “Ah, what times we had then. Whatever happened to that fellow?” 

“He grew bored with the repetitious parade of inane women hunting for titles.” Jareth sighed. “And he now finds himself in the company of a willful girl who thinks herself so very wise and knowledgeable in the ways of the world because of her one and twenty years.” He smirked at Sarah. “It is both a new and wholly infuriating experience.” 

“I would happily avoid your company in the future, if it would please you, milord,” Sarah replied, offering him a winning smile. 

“It would not.” He returned her smile, baring his predatory Fae teeth. “Do not believe you can escape our little game so easily, Miss Williams.” 

Her smile vanished. How his mulishness grated on her! He would not give up the game, no matter how willing she was to let him win. And with that thought, understanding took a hold of her. “You _like_ that I do not at all care for you.” 

“Oh, he does very much!” Luella exclaimed, joining the discussion. “How very discerning of you, Miss Williams.” 

“Indeed,” Edmund agreed. “Kingston has never before met a woman who has not wanted to bed or wed him on sight.” 

“That’s it then, isn’t it?” Sarah said almost to herself. “I have only to fawn over you and you will discard me as handily as you have the others.” 

“A feat you could never hope to accomplish,” Jareth said, dismissing her notion with a wave of his hand. “No matter how you might pretend to want my affections, I am certain to invoke your true feelings by my ‘despicable’ manner.” He leaned closer to her. “By all means, make an attempt, Miss Williams. Where would you begin? A look that implores me to take you into my arms? A fatuous giggle when I say something barely humorous? Or would you start with a kiss?” He reached forth and ghosted his fingers over her lips. 

Sarah backed away from his near touch, though her disloyal mind imagined briefly what it would feel like to let his fingers graze her lips as they had in her dream. 

“And to what lengths would you take your designs to prove yourself as useless as all other scheming women?” His gaze became dark, intense, and chills rose over Sarah’s flesh. “All the way to my bed, if I so desired, where I would steal your innocence? Perhaps even then I would not handily discard you, as you put it. Would you keep up the ruse after that? Would you become my mistress to use how I see fit? And what if I still would not discard you? What if I kept you until you until you drew your last breath, ruining any chance you might have had at finding happiness with husband and family?” 

As he laid out each terrible detail, Sarah’s stomach turned with revulsion. “Even you cannot be so heartless,” she whispered. 

“Do your worst, Miss Williams, and you will soon discover the truth of my words.” he said with unsettling frankness. “The flaw you have missed in your stratagem is that you do not know what I am capable of when I decide to win.” He leaned back on his pillows, clearly believing her to have been thwarted. 

His words shook her to the core, and she believed him. She very nearly expounded on the depth of her loathing for him, but was able to hold her tongue just before. Though he had taken his provocation to a new, alarming level, it only fueled her determination to never again be bested by him. 

Adopting a placid expression, Sarah replied with cool tones, “I fear you have underestimated me as well, milord.” 

Jareth raised a pale brow. “Have I? Do enlighten me.” 

“Yes,” said she, her heart thrumming rapidly beneath her veneer of calm. “You also do not know the depth of my resolve. A failure in tactic is not an indication of defeat, sir. It merely narrows the field.” She gave him a steely gaze. “With patience, I will eventually eliminate every unsuccessful gambit until I am left with the sole device that leads to your undoing.” 

“Undoing? A telling choice of words, Miss Williams.” A disquieting grin stretched across his lips. “Well, Locksley,” he said, turning to his friend, “as our informal arbiter, how did this round come out?” 

Sarah narrowed her eyes. Again the game! She found the strength to hold back her protest, however, when Elizabeth gave her hand a consolatory squeeze. Though her cousin was too timid to offer her more than a quiet token of solidarity, Sarah was grateful for her presence. 

“But you ask the impossible, Kingston!” Edmund threw up his hands in fabricated consternation. “I was nearly persuaded to give the round to you until Miss Williams produced such an eloquent rebuttal.” He sighed as though the weight of the decision was too much to bear. “I am afraid I must call this round a draw.” 

“I concur,” Luella interjected. 

Sarah glanced at the Fae woman with no small amount of surprise. “You would consider yourself a spectator to this insufferable contest as well?” She had difficulty keeping her disappointment from her tone. Was Halsey the only benevolent immortal in the group? She looked at him and he offered her an apologetic smile but made no reply. 

“Forgive me, Miss Williams,” Luella said, “but during your first encounter with my brother, I thought he had engaged you unfairly, and so I intervened on your behalf. However, you have since proven your mettle, and I am no longer needed as your protector.” She smiled as if she expected Sarah to understand and approve. “If you could but know how delicious it is to witness my brother take on an equal—and one so young, no less! Well, you would not begrudge us this experience. There was only one other—” 

“Enough!” Jareth sat up, fixing Luella with a glare that chilled the very air between them. “Not another word, dear sister.” 

She did not balk at the rebuke, but instead gave her brother a penitent nod. “Of course.” 

Sarah wondered at the curious interaction between the two siblings. Before Jareth silenced her, Luella had implied there was another who had previously battled wits with the Fae lord. Another maiden like herself? What had happened to her? Sarah shivered in the mild spring air as she considered how dangerous her association with the lord of the Labyrinth could become. 

“Ah, there are the performers.” Halsey’s voice called her from her unsettling thoughts. He pointed toward the darkened base of the hill. 

“I can hardly see them,” Elizabeth said. “How are we to enjoy the performance when it is so poorly lit?” 

“Magic,” Luella said, smiling once more. “Your operas are poor imitations to ours and must rely on stage and costumes to enhance the music. Our operas, however, are blessed with the power of Fae song.” 

Elizabeth blanched. “Fae song?” Sarah shared her cousin’s sudden apprehension. 

“Oh, do not look so faint, ladies,” Edmund said. “Mortals think we only use Fae song to lure away pretty creatures such as yourselves, but it is capable of other, less nefarious, magic.” 

“And you will experience other of its properties that you will find more agreeable.” Halsey cast Jareth a brief, furtive glance before continuing, “You may wish to settle yourselves more comfortably. Fae opera can be quite overpowering.” He stretched out among the pillows and the others did the same—all except Sarah. 

The only remaining room with which to lie down was a sliver of blanket next to Jareth. He, too, was aware of this fact, and with a profligate smile, patted the ground next to him in invitation. 

“I respectfully decline, sir,” Sarah said as genially as she could manage. 

“As you wish,” he replied, rolling onto his back and resting his head in his hands as he closed his eyes. The motion opened his shirt farther, revealing a glint of silver and gold on his pale chest. Sarah recognized the pendant from her disturbing dream the month before. Foreboding welled within her, and she quickly turned away. 

Blessedly, music began to fill the air, soft and lilting at first, and then growing louder. A soprano joined the orchestra, her voice so pure it invoked tears. Never had Sarah heard anything more beautiful in her life. A tenor sang next and to her side, Jareth hummed in harmony. 

All Sarah’s ire, her frustration, and her fears fell away until there was only the song. She could not decipher the words as the performance was in the tongue of the ancients, but she understood their meaning. Hope, loneliness, desire, need. She breathed it in. Each note seemed to swirl inside of her as the song built to a crescendo. 

Suddenly there was only one voice, clear and exquisite, singing of a maiden’s unrequited love. The air against Sarah’s skin became warm and heavy with the scent of blossoms—though no flowers she knew. Her eyes fluttered open—when had she closed them?—and her hand flew her mouth. Gone was the torch-lit hillside, replaced with a meadow at high noon filled with an array of wild flowers. She had dreamt of this place before; surely she was dreaming again. 

But it was more real this time. The corners of her vision were crisp, lacking the haziness that typically accompanied her dreams. She pinched a blade of grass between her fingers, marveling at its solidity.   
The song called her, and she searched for its source. Several paces away, a striking woman no older than she sat on a blanket, weaving a circlet of flowers. The maiden sang as she worked, her dark copper hair falling over her shoulder. 

“Cara.” 

At first, Sarah thought she might have uttered the name, but then another stepped up beside her. She glanced at her companion—a Fae. He was all things Sarah would be if she had been born both male and immortal. Though more masculine, he shared every feature with her—the sweep of his nose, the setting of his chin, his shining brunette locks and emerald eyes. 

“Grandfather.” The word came from her in a quaking breath. 

He smiled and the world grew brighter. “Am I?” He searched her face. “It seems I have done well, then.” 

Her chest ached as she recalled learning of his tragic demise from Luella. She wanted to warn him against his folly, but his attention had already returned to the maiden who sang on, heedless of her audience. 

Baldric stepped forward, and in desperation, Sarah placed a hand on his arm. “Do not persist in this,” she pleaded. “It will only bring you pain.” 

He turned to her, bewildered by her fervent exhortation. “But she is my life’s breath.” He glanced at Cara with such longing that Sarah blushed. “I suffocate without her.” 

“You cannot know the suffering that awaits you!” Sarah cried. 

His eyes were kindly as he caressed her cheek. “Have you not yet loved, child?” 

She shook her head. She had never loved apart from familial affection, nor was she inclined to ever love beyond that. 

“Then it is you who cannot know what lies in wait,” Baldric replied. “There will be suffering, but there will be a joy beyond imagining.” He brushed away her tears. “Do not weep for us, granddaughter.” 

He released her and crossed the meadow to his beloved. Cara smiled when he sat beside her, and she changed to a livelier tune about a mischievous wood sprite. She placed her crown of flowers on Baldric’s head, and he laughed in response. When he began to sing with her, however, she stopped abruptly and pointed at him in accusation. He laughed again and pulled her into his arms. She struggled against his embrace, but it was a feigned resistance. Unfettered delight shone in her visage as they tumbled over. 

And then Sarah was no longer an observer but lay instead on a blanket beneath the penetrating eyes of Lord Jareth. The sunlight made his fair hair a radiant halo and she could not find the air to breathe. He looked down at her with the same yearning with which Baldric had gazed upon Cara. It both terrified and thrilled her. 

“Sarah,” he whispered, “let me have you forever.” He dropped his head to her shoulder, his lips grazing briefly against her neck. Heat blossomed in her middle. 

_Never_. The word refused to come out, however. He was so earnest, so different from the contemptible immortal who tormented her miserably. Was it possible she did not truly know him? 

“Say you belong to me,” Jareth said against her delicate skin, “and I will give you everything that you want.” 

Overwhelmed by his nearness, she entertained his offer for a quavering breath. “Would you sacrifice all for me?” 

He raised his head. “Would you for me?” 

The air became heavy between them as he waited for her answer. “No.” She shook her head in an attempt to regain her wits. “No, I shall not. You do not love me, milord.” 

“I do not,” he agreed, drawing her to him. “But soon,” he murmured, “we shall both be lost.” His avaricious gaze dropped to her lips, and the blaze in her middle became an inferno of unwelcome desire. 

_No!_ Her heart cried out. How she wished so desperately to deny him! And yet, in this moment, her resolve faltered. Her mortal will was a flimsy thing, tempered only by two mere decades of existence, while his was burnished steel, refined by centuries of intractable conceit. 

_No!_ She would _not_ surrender so readily! She raised her hands to push him away, and he was gone. 

Gone too was the blossomy plain, instantly replaced with the familiar milieu of her private rooms. She sat before her vanity in a silken shift and robe—much as she had before the opera. A dark-haired woman stepped behind her and Sarah’s heart constricted. 

Mother. 

Lynda, still young and beautiful, bore the same startling resemblance to Sarah as Baldric had. She smiled affectionately, and without a word, began combing through her daughter’s hair with a silver brush. Sarah remained mute out of fear that any sound would break the spell. 

If this was a dream, she wished never to wake. 

“I always knew it would be you,” Lynda whispered as she wove ivory flowers in Sarah’s hair. “I only wished I had lived to see it.” 

Panged by her words, Sarah turned to her mother. “I don’t understand.” 

“He needs an heir.” Lynda clasped Sarah’s hands and drew her to her feet. 

“To restore the line,” added another from the shadows. Cara, as youthful as she had been in the meadow but moments before, stepped forth holding a gown of spun crystal and silver. 

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “But who needs this heir? What line?” 

Neither her mother nor her grandmother answered as they set about dressing her in the gown. Cara helped her into a pair of silver slippers, and they ushered her toward the door. 

“Mother, wait!” Sarah cried, reaching for Lynda. 

“You must hurry, granddaughter,” Cara said. 

Lynda nodded. “Your duty awaits you.” Just before the threshold, she gathered Sarah into a crushing embrace. “You are more than I ever could have been,” she whispered before releasing her. 

“I don’t wish to leave you,” Sarah pleaded. “Let me stay, please.” 

Lynda shook her head and gave Sarah a final sad smile before vanishing entirely. 

“No!” Sarah gave into her grief, falling to her knees without care for her gown. She wept with bitterness, now wishing to wake from this heartache. 

“Come, Sarah. We mustn’t keep him waiting.” 

She dried her tears with her skirts and found Robert standing over her, his hand outstretched. She took it, legs trembling beneath her as she rose. Before her was a hall, more grandiose than any she had seen or imagined, with enormous white pillars that met a high glass ceiling so clear, she could see the cerulean sky above. A long aisle led toward a tall dais where a raven-haired man sat upon a crystal throne. A staff lay across his lap, silver like the brilliant crown on his head. 

King Phillip, the man who had doomed Sarah’s grandparents with his unfeeling denial of their love. 

King Phillip, her great uncle. 

Sarah’s heart seemed to have forgotten how to beat properly as Robert urged her onward. On either side of the aisle, Fae dressed in beautiful white stared at her wearing expressions of envy and awe. She tried to flee, but her treasonous feet moved forward, each step inexorably bringing her closer to some terrible fate. Why could she not wake! 

In the crowd, she found the familiar faces of her friends, Edmund and Luella. She beseeched them silently to come to her rescue, but they returned her gaze with the same looks of wonderment the others bore. Relief swept through her when she saw Halsey just beyond them, but it was short lived. She nearly stumbled beneath his glare full of hatred and fury. 

Turning hastily away, she found at the base of the dais an altar previously unseen by her. It was made of pale shining marble and was wreathed with crimson blood. _Blood?_ What was to happen here? To her? Panicked, Sarah pulled away from her father. _Wake, oh please!_

“Sarah,” her father entreated her, drawing her to him once more with a kindly expression. “There is nothing to fear.” 

Nothing to fear? Her heart galloped in her chest. “But the…” The words died on her lips as her gaze fell to the altar once more. Gone were the cerise stains. Instead, it was festooned with cheerful roses. Had she imagined the blood? 

King Phillip stood when they approached. Like Baldric, she was struck with the extraordinary resemblance she bore to him. Had she nothing from her mortal lineage? 

“Who seeks an audience with the king?” His voice rang out in the silent hall. He held his staff out from his side. 

Robert bowed low. “Robert Williams of Laborintus, Your Majesty. I have come to present to you my daughter, Sarah Williams.” 

King Phillip’s gaze swept over Sarah and she shrunk under his merciless scrutiny. “And do you, Robert Williams of Laborintus,” he intoned, turning back to her father, “forsake all claims to her of your own free will?” 

Sarah’s hand went to her mouth as her terror mounted. “No, Father,” she whispered fervently. “Do not do this.” 

Robert ignored her plea, or did not hear it, for he said, “I do.” 

“What is said is said.” The king slammed the staff against the stone floor, and like a gong, the sound reverberated throughout the cavernous room. “So shall it be forever and ever.” 

“No, Father!” Sarah tore at Robert’s coat as he began to back away. 

He stilled her hands and lifted her chin. “You must do your duty, Sarah.” 

“You are no longer his,” King Phillip said, his voice devoid of compassion. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Robert vanished. Sarah was utterly vulnerable now. 

Before she could give into her desire to run, she was captured, lifted up as if she were nothing more than a small child. She clawed at her unknown assailant, white feathers coming away in her hands from his cloak. In swift motion, he laid her on the cool marble slab, unconcerned with her frenzied resistance. 

“Do your duty, Sarah.” 

She halted her struggle at the familiar baritone. Lord Jareth leaned over her with a tender smile. 

“Do your duty,” he repeated, and others in the audience began to whisper the words until the hall echoed with this chant. 

Above, King Phillip began to speak in the old tongue—a powerful incantation that raised the hairs over her body. She watched with horror as he handed Jareth translucent dagger that glowed brighter with every word. 

The hall fell to sudden silence as Jareth gazed down at her. He trailed his fingers along her jaw, whispering, “Forever, Sarah.” And then with inhuman speed he raised the knife over his head and brought it down into her chest with such force that the blade met no opposition. 

Sarah shot up, gasping for air, hand flying to where the dagger had pierced her heart. Her fingertips found nothing but the gauzy fabric of her bodice. 

Blinking, she came to the slow realization that she was still at the opera, safe and unharmed. She had dreamt it all—the worst of her sleeping visions yet. Around her the others slumbered on undisturbed. The performance carried on below with a sonorous bass, and Sarah clapped her hands over her ears, fearful it would induce another nightmare. 

She had to escape the awful magic of this place. Rising, she took care not to stumble over her companions and others as she hurriedly picked her way toward the pavilion. Even that was not far enough. Free of supine obstacles, she ran, not pausing when she crossed out of torch light into the dark forest beyond. Still, the enticing notes of Fae song followed her. Could she not flee far enough? 

Her foot caught on some protuberance in the ground, and she threw her hands out before her as she began to tumble, only to be snatched back by a pair of arms. She turned to thank her rescuer and staggered back upon discovering Lord Jareth had saved her. Unconsciously, she touched her chest, recalling the crippling pain of the crystal blade. 

Had he followed her? Had he found the opportunity he sought to truly bring her to harm? 

With panting breath, she swiftly backed away from him, stumbling into a rough tree trunk. 

Jareth’s brow furrowed. “You fear me?” 

“I am disoriented by the music,” she deflected with as much confidence as she could muster. She stole a glance to the side in the futile hope that someone else would have come searching for her. They were entirely alone. 

Jareth’s lips thinned with doubt, but he did not speak it. “You did not care for the opera?” he asked instead, leaning against a nearby tree. 

Sarah shook her head, feeling somewhat calmed by his casual posture. Perhaps she was safe with him— at least, for now. “I had imagined it would be pleasant. It was not.” 

He laughed in response. “You are not alone in your disappointment, Miss Williams.” He grew somber as his gaze drifted toward the opera. There was music still in the air, but it was faint, almost beyond hearing. “What is seen is seen.” 

_What is said is said._

A new wave of chills swept over Sarah. “Is it more than a dream?” she asked, fearing an answer in the affirmative. She wondered if he had shared in her nightmare, but she dared not pose the question. 

Jareth drew a deep breath and was silent a moment longer before turning back to her. “It is everything: what was, what is, what could be, and what will be,” he answered with uncharacteristic solemnity. 

She let the words settle over her, the depth of their meaning churning her insides. Somehow, she found the courage to deny her fears. She would not accept that her disturbing dream would come to pass. She simply could not. “I cannot believe that I am subject to the whims of Fate without some say in the matter.” 

“Oh, I should think Fate would never dare move the stars without your permission, Miss Williams,” said Jareth, a familiar smirk gracing his handsome face. “Nay, I imagine it trembles with anticipation, waiting upon your will and pleasure.” 

Sarah glared at him. “Must you always be given to insults and mockery, milord?” 

He frowned as if gravely considering her question. “I believe so, yes. Just as you must always be given to willful ignorance.” He held out his hand before she could make a biting retort. “Come, Miss Williams. The concert is drawing to an end, and we had better return before the others are roused. We wouldn’t want to further fuel the rumors about us, would we?” 

“If you would but let me be, there would be no fuel at all,” she returned with a hint of venom as she took his hand. “One would think you invite such deliberately.” 

“First I am given to insults and mockery, and now it is my design to be in the thick of scandal and intrigue?” He raised a brow. “Whatever else is next, pray tell? Foppery?” 

Sarah raised her chin, appraising his rather smart appearance. “You _do_ dress exceedingly well.” 

His laughter echoed through the trees as they made their way back to the hillside, and for the briefest moment, Sarah did not despise him—not absolutely. 

Later, when she had returned home safely with Elizabeth (who had lauded the entire affair with fervor), Sarah again pondered her unpleasant dream. After her last encounter with Lord Jareth, she was less inclined to believe him to be either desirous or capable of bringing her to any real harm. Surely the disturbing images were symbolic rather than literal. 

_It is everything: what was, what is, what could be, and what will be. _

_Do your duty._

Sarah slept fitfully that night. 


	7. Lore and Limerick

There were no more dreams after the opera, and Sarah was glad for it. In truth, she had savagely repressed the unsettling vision from that evening, and in a month’s time, hardly thought of it at all. This was, perhaps, further facilitated by her lack of association with the Kingstons and their companion in recent weeks—a lack which did not at all disappoint Sarah.

In quiet moments, however, she would recall her last encounter with Lord Jareth, when he had laughed without a hint of derision and how it had softened, if briefly, her loathing of him. An insidious idea began to pervade her thoughts. Could it be that the insufferable Fae lord was more than he appeared? Each time the question formed in her mind, Sarah smothered it with decisive swiftness. Her opinion of Lord Jareth was of no import, so long as her father was gainfully employed by him.

“Sarah?” Elizabeth’s gentle tones drew Sarah out of her musings. “You’ve gone to some far off place.”

Sarah smiled, placing her hand over her cousin’s as they strolled together through the countryside. “I am merely drinking in the splendor before us.”

Her words were not entirely untrue. Spring was in full effect in Laborintus, and the grassy hillsides were dotted with the yellows, pinks, and lavenders of various wildflowers. The sky shone in brilliant azure with only a few misty white clouds. The landscape was picturesque, the perfect day for a promenade.

“Have you any news from your father?” Elizabeth asked as they followed the gentle incline of their winding path.

“Yes, indeed.” Sarah’s grin broadened at the pleasant subject. “He writes that Lord and Lady Kingston are nearly settled. He and Karen are set to return in a fortnight.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Elizabeth exclaimed, sharing in Sarah’s delight. “You have missed him greatly, I know.”

Sarah did not deny it. “I find myself almost as eager for Karen’s return as well—if only with the hope her presence will discourage the worst of my stepbrother’s proclivities.” She issued the statement with a half-hearted laugh though she meant every word.

Toby had yet to endear himself to Sarah, and in fact, seemed bent on tormenting her and Elizabeth at every turn. That a boy of six years could be in possession of so much mischief was maddening. Daily, the cousins were the victims of Toby’s schemes, whether it was a sudden exposure to some repulsive creature or wonton destruction of their property. Just the day before he had taken out every stitch of Sarah’s needlepoint—one which she had nearly finished.

Each time Sarah set out to see him punished for his impudent behavior, Ferris explained that the Misses—Karen—did not care to have Toby disciplined with undue harshness. Lucy had grumbled about the boy more than once while brushing Sarah’s hair in the evening, saying that if he was not taken in hand soon, he would grow into a fearsome young man. Sarah agreed heartily and suspected even Ferris felt the same.

“I wonder,” Elizabeth said, “what might have happened to make your brother so. I cannot believe any child is born with such…undesirable qualities.”

“Oh, Elizabeth. How you ever see the good in all!” Sarah’s heart swelled with affection, chasing away her cheerless thoughts. “If I were to take a measure of your optimism and you a measure of my pragmatism, we should each finally become balanced and fair.”

“Indeed!” Elizabeth laughed in return. 

“But balanced and fair is so terribly tedious!”

The cousins started at the deep voice, spinning about to find Mr. Locksley had joined them. Sarah suffered from the conflicting emotions of elation and chagrin upon laying eyes on the dark-haired Fae. The latter she understood, having enjoyed her all too brief respite from irksome immortals. Why she should be glad to see him as well, she did not know.

“Mr. Locksley, must you always startle us when approaching?” Sarah asked with feigned severity.

“Most assuredly,” he replied with his typical impish grin. “I delight in your little leaps of fright.”

“You, sir, are incorrigible—wholly and unforgivably.” Sarah smiled in return. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

Edmund raised his brow. “Pleasure, is it? And here I thought I might never win over that stony heart of yours.” He placed a hand against his chest and sighed happily. “How glad I am for it—but you must take care not to fall in love with me, Miss Williams, as women are wont to do. I am already engaged by another.”

“Engaged? By whom?” Elizabeth asked earnestly, ever the romantic.

Edmund’s eyes danced with mischief. “Why, Miss Ingleby, don’t you recall? You and I are to cast off the shackles of societal mores and run away together.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks turned a brilliant rosy color and she seemed to be at an utter loss for words. Sarah laughed and shook her head. “Please, Mr. Locksley, you must stop teasing my poor cousin so!”

“Never!” Edmund exclaimed. “Why, it’s as if you command me to stop breathing.” He gave a little bow to Elizabeth, however, and said, “But you will forgive my impertinent manner, Miss Ingleby? It simply cannot be helped.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth replied, still flushed.

Sarah shook her head with a sigh and grasped her cousin’s arm, continuing farther up the trail. “Mr. Locksley, you have yet to answer my question.”

“Ah, yes,” Edmund replied as he kept pace with the ladies. “It has been mournfully dull at the castle, and court is full of the same tiresome games and intrigues. I thought perhaps you and I might have a good row to liven things up a bit, Miss Williams. What say you?”

“I’m not certain I’ve the spirit for having a row, as you put it,” Sarah answered. “I’ve grown rather fond of peace and quiet these last weeks.” She hid the small grin that tried to blossom on her lips. Perhaps she had missed—only a little—the vigorous discussions she’d had with Edmund. When her even more lively debates with Lord Jareth came to mind, Sarah vehemently quelled the memories—but not before gooseflesh prickled across her skin.

“Drat!” Edmund cried out in disappointment. “I warned them against leaving you to your own devices for so long. And just when we’d adequately broken you in!”

Sarah scoffed at his base comparison. “I am hardly some wild horse in need of gentling, Mr. Locksley.”

“No, you are not,” Edmund agreed, “for you are becoming far too mild. How are you to match wits with Kingston when next you meet if you are so out of practice?”

Oh, why did he have to speak of the very man she was anxious to avoid! “Mayhap, I will never again be subjected to his Lordship’s presence, and therefore, any ‘practice’ would be a worthless endeavor.”

Edmund let out a rich laugh, holding his middle as he doubled over. “Miss Williams, how you slay me with your humor!” he said when he regained his composure. “Surely you don’t believe my friend has forgotten you already?”

“One can always hope, Mr. Locksley.” Even as she said the words, Sarah felt the tiniest prick of relief upon hearing she had not been so easily set aside by Lord Jareth, and the unwelcome emotion was disconcerting.

Edmund laughed again, though not quite as heartily as before. “Such hope would be futile, I’m afraid.” He failed to expound further, and Sarah was too unsettled by the implications to ask his meaning.

Silence hung thick between them as they reached the crest of the hill. Below lay the stone walls of the Labyrinth stretching toward the horizon—the kingdom of the goblins. Sarah recalled the histories, of days before the Fae had tamed these lands. Goblins had once rained terror down on humans, the creatures stealing away with the young and the infirm—wished away or otherwise. What they had done with their victims had since passed out of mortal knowledge, but there were whispers of the sort that could induce nightmares.

The immortals conquered the goblins millennia before, and since then there had been a Fae ruler over the realm, to rein the beasts in. Goblins only stole the young wished away, and the great maze was meant to test those who were unfeeling enough to make such a wretched petition.

Sarah’s eyes rose to the great castle rising high above the maze at its center. An involuntary shiver swept through her as she thought of Jareth somewhere within, perhaps seated on a throne, looking out over a court of misshapen beings. She imagined that he wore the same austere expression as he had when she first met him at the ball.

“I wonder that the Fae left any survivors when they took over the goblin kingdom,” she said in a near whisper, “when they could have demolished that vile race entirely?”

“Because, Miss Williams,” Edmund answered in an unusually sober voice, “for all our faults of character, we are not murderers.” He gazed down at her with penetrating green eyes. “Goblins are as much a part of creation as humans and Fae. To erase them from existence would upset the balance of all things.”

“But what purpose can they serve?” Sarah’s eyes returned to the castle, with its banners flapping languidly in a soft breeze.

“What purpose do mortals serve? Or the Fae?” Edmund stepped closer to her. “Does it matter? You are safe from the goblins so long as you don’t make a wish. It is enough.” 

Sarah pondered his words, feeling ashamed for her own less honorable thoughts. She had never believed the immortals capable of any kind of valor, but she was proven wrong in this moment. The Fae chose the burden of ruling the goblins over wiping the creatures out entirely, showing the immortals had a moral sense. Further, the safety of the world had been assured by that valiant deed. But at what price?

“Does the mantle weigh heavily on him?” She was unaware she’d spoken the question aloud until Edmund replied in equally hushed tones.

“Yes.”

Sarah suddenly wished this new understanding could be forgotten—that she had never asked. It was becoming increasingly difficult to cling to her hatred of Lord Jareth when such revelations were exposing him as a being far more complicated than she had previously believed. He sacrificed daily for the welfare of her people. Did not such a man deserve her respect, if not admiration?

“What happens to the children?” Elizabeth asked, her voice quivering. “The ones who are wished away and not won back, I mean.”

Edmund furrowed his brow, an unnatural look for him. “You know, I’ve never asked.” He heaved a sigh which seemed to be born from the tips of his toes. “This has all become very dreary, and I am unused to such. Quickly, let us return to happier subjects!”

Sarah was unsurprised by his plea, knowing his aversion to anything but mischief and gaiety. At this moment, however, she was disinclined to argue against his request. “What shall we speak of then, Mr. Locksley?”

Edmund clasped his hands behind his back and grinned. “I happen to know that on the morrow Lady Luella has plans for a grand picnic, and she intends to invite you and Miss Ingleby,” he said. “Will you come?”

Sarah returned his eager smile with a wan one of her own. “Of course.” She had difficulty mustering any sort of enthusiasm, still burdened by her new ponderous knowledge.

“Excellent!” Edmund exclaimed with a clap. He looked as though he would say more, but closed his mouth as he studied Sarah. “Perhaps I ought to leave you ladies to your stroll. I thank you for the pleasant, if too brief, distraction.” He gave them both a flourishing bow, winking at Elizabeth. “And you and I shall one day make for our elopement.”

Elizabeth blushed furiously as he vanished in an echo of laughter. “Surely he does not mean to marry me!” Her eyes were wide with anxiety.

Sarah gave her cousin a kind smile and drew her into an embrace. “Fear not, Elizabeth. I think he only means to bait you for his entertainment. You are quite safe.”

“When I asked you to find me a handsome suitor, this is not at all what I meant,” Elizabeth said, good humor returning in her voice.

Sarah released her with a laugh. “Oh, Elizabeth! You wonderful creature. Shall we return for tea?”

Elizabeth nodded her assent, and the two traveled down the path toward home, speaking of lighter things as they went. An invitation written in the delicate, swirling hand of Luella awaited them at the estate.

* * *

Nature was kind on the afternoon of the picnic, sweeping away the gray clouds of the morning until there was nothing but cerulean to be seen by the time Sarah and Elizabeth joined the party. Halsey had come to collect the cousins once again, but Sarah had not esteemed the chivalrous act quite as highly as she might have before. She feared Lord Jareth’s apparent low opinion of his brother was beginning to have some undue influence on her, but then Halsey had exposed her utter vulnerability during their last encounter with his casual use of magic. Perhaps she came by her reticence honestly after all.

The group dined in the breathtaking gardens of some friend of the Kingstons just to the east of the Labyrinth—a Fae Lord who was still yet in Aulderon for some months hence. The pristine state of the manor bespoke of a full staff despite the owner’s absence, however, and Sarah could not help staring in wonder at the vibrant color produced by the foliage of the well-tended grounds. Had the thick, verdant grass and luminous flowers been cultivated by magic rather than ordinary means? Sarah thought it must be so as she did not recognize many of the species.

She inhaled deeply the fragrant aroma of new life and would have, had she been alone, spun in languid circles, breathing in nature’s hope and promise. How Elizabeth could prefer the stale air of the mansion to this radiance, Sarah did not know.

“You give yourself away, Miss Williams,” Edmund murmured at her shoulder as the group waited for the servants to set up the picnic.

Sarah frowned at the intrusion. “What do you mean, Mr. Locksley?”

He gave her a knowing smile. “For all your protestations that you bear no resemblance to us,” said he, “you are more Fae than human—_far_ more. The very air sings to you, does it not?” He held up a hand when she began to reject his allegation. “Fear not, your secret is safe with me.”

He stepped away, leaving Sarah to ponder his words. Surely a love of greenery and clear skies was not indicative of that part of her heritage she would gladly deny. There were other mortals who loved nature as much as she, were there not? She attempted to dismiss Edmund’s claim, but a memory from her childhood came unbidden to her mind.

As a young girl, she had once overheard her governess complain to another servant about Sarah’s near daily excursions out of doors—and the mess the mud and dirt made on her gowns. “It isn’t that the girl loves nature,” her governess had muttered, “but I daresay it is her life’s blood. It’s unnatural, I tell you, the way she seems to only come alive when she’s wandering the gardens.”

Sarah shook away the unpleasant recollection and settled herself next to Elizabeth on the large blankets. “Is Lord Jareth not to join us?” she asked, for the first time truly noting his absence. Too late, she realized such an inquiry might imply a desire to see him when nothing could be further from the truth—or so she told herself.

Luella smiled. “He has been delayed by duty but will join us when he is able.” The Fae woman then pouted, looking for the moment far younger than her many decades. “My brother has become so dull since taking over for Father. ‘I’m not a child anymore,’ he says.” She turned to Edmund. “Do you remember how playful he once was? Oh, how I miss those days.”

“Indeed. There were all sorts of mischief to be had then.” Edmund plucked a grape from the large silver platter of fruit a servant had just set down. “Though, I wager given the best circumstances, Kingston would be just as glad to embrace old habits again.” This last, he directed at Sarah with a wink which she attempted to ignore.

“I, for one, don’t find my brother’s absence quite so disagreeable,” interjected Halsey with a smile.

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Edmund gave him a look that hinted of disdain, and though the exchange was brief, an unpleasant tension settled over the group. Never one to care for soberness, Edmund leapt up. “Let us play a game,” he said. 

Luella clapped with delight. “What sort of game?”

“You choose a subject, and I shall compose a limerick.” He crossed his arms and tapped his chin. “If I do not entertain you, then you must best me.”

“Since you are so fond of my brother,” Halsey said with a rancor that Sarah had not witnessed in him before, “then compose one for him.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes just before giving the party a garish bow. “Such a feat requires not one but three limericks.” He cleared his throat and then began:

“There once was a lord with the face of a god.  
Women fell at his feet wherever he trod.  
But alas there was one  
who thought him no fun.  
And he had to know why she was odd. 

“He tormented, baited her, driving her mad.  
And still the girl thought him so very bad.  
But her every rejection  
grows his affection,  
though to her he keeps acting the cad.

“Never before had the lord such great sport  
than to counter this girl’s every retort.  
And so he will play  
forever this way  
despite her best efforts to thwart.”

Sarah cheeks burned with a furious blush as Luella and Elizabeth applauded enthusiastically. Halsey’s mouth was drawn into a thin line as he glared at Edmund, clearly unimpressed with the performance.

Edmund was aware, too, of Halsey’s displeasure as he said, “Now it is for you to best me, sir, since I failed to amuse you.” He settled back on the blanket and waved toward the other man. “Well, begin!”

Halsey shook his head. “I’m afraid I lack your gift for quick wit and rhyme. I forfeit the game to you.”

Edmund spread his hands with a grin. “’Tis true. Not everyone can be as brilliant as I am.”

“Oh, I wish Jareth had been here!” Luella exclaimed. “I’m certain he would have loved your epic, Mr. Locksley.”

“Nay, milady,” Edmund replied while pilfering a piece of cheese from the spread of food. “Kingston would have had me horse drawn and whipped for revealing his secrets.” He flashed a grin. “Though that would not have been an adequate deterrent for my aberrant nature. Little, in fact, is capable of making me the least penitent.” With a flourish, he tossed the morsel into his mouth.

The rest of the party followed suit, filling silver plates with all sort of delicacies and confections. Sarah picked at her meal, however, having lost all appetite. Edmund’s display seemed to set in stone the warning he had given her the day before—that there was no hope of Jareth losing interest in his vexing game with her at any time in the near future. Worse, there was an infinitesimal part of her which no longer delighted in the idea of never again exchanging barbs with the Lord of the Labyrinth.

“Are you ill?” Elizabeth whispered to Sarah as the others began chatting about the latest court gossip. “Should we not have come?”

Sarah managed a weak smile and patted her cousin’s hand. “I’m rather tired,” she lied. “But it’s of no consequence.”

“If you’re certain…?” Elizabeth studied her with worry in her eyes.

“I am,” Sarah replied, though it was too loud with the sudden lull in the conversation.

“What are you two whispering about, Miss Williams?” Edmund asked. “Further extolling my genius with the verse, no doubt.”

“Perhaps I was telling my dear cousin that I wished to see how Lord Jareth might exact his revenge upon you for your talents,” she answered quickly in attempt to hide the blush which had risen to her face once again.

Edmund laughed. “What a bloodthirsty creature you are!”

“I think I am thrown into the same lot as Miss Williams,” said Luella, “for witnessing such would have been even more entertaining than your poetry!” She sighed heavily. “What can be keeping my brother? I was rather looking forward to another contest of wills between him and Miss Williams.”

Sarah began to express her displeasure at being viewed as recreation, but Halsey spoke first. “Shall we go discover the reason for his delay?”

Edmund’s expression became shrewd, mistrust plain on his features. “You know better to interfere with Kingston’s obligations.”

Halsey returned Edmund’s fell gaze with an equally hard one of his own. “Did you and my sister not bemoan the lack of mischief in your lives now that Jareth has become king of the goblins?” There was the ghost of contempt in his voice when he spoke his brother’s name, but Sarah thought she misheard it. Halsey turned to Luella, his eyes softening. “Besides, we would not interfere—but merely be spectators. Surely there is no harm in that?”

“No harm?” Edmund scoffed. “You court disaster with this plan, mark my words.”

“And who is the prudent one now!” Halsey replied with a mocking smile. “Whatever happened to your ‘aberrant nature’?” He rose and indicated for the others to do the same. “Remain here if you will, but I think the rest share my in my curiosity.”

Luella joined her brother, and Sarah hesitated only a heartbeat before dragging her cousin up with her. She wasn’t entirely keen on the endeavor but felt it better to play along than to resist.

Edmund puffed out his cheeks in a resigned sigh and stood as well. “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish with this design, Halsey, but I will come along—if only to be the one to witness against you should things go horribly awry.” He gave the other man an uncharacteristically grim smile. “Which they will.”

The fierceness in Edmund’s tone unsettled Sarah and she began to question her decision to join in on this adventure. It was too late to withdraw, however, as Halsey had already conjured a crystal, holding it out for the group.

“Shall we?” he said.

Sarah reached for the orb, and just before she and Elizabeth were whisked away by its magic, she thought she saw a darkness in Halsey’s eyes.


	8. Hints Undesired

Sarah was struck first by the stench—not a terribly overpowering one, but it lingered at the edge of discomfort. Next to her, Elizabeth made a surprised noise and brought her hand to her nose, and Luella muttered under her breath about the filth of the goblin kingdom. The group had turned up in a dank hallway made of crumbling stonework and termite-eaten beams. Something wet and mildly rancid glistened on the walls, and Sarah took an unconscious step back from the offending substance. Not even the slums of Laborintus—which Sarah had visited on occasion for charity—were this vile. She could hardly believe Lord Jareth could tolerate such squalor. Sarah took another step away from the walls when a hand grasped her arm.

“Don’t move,” Edmund warned in a whisper. “My ability to cloak our party only extends so far. It would be imprudent to have Kingston discover us.”

Sarah gave him a nod of understanding and huddled closer to her cousin. She searched the corridor for the man in question, but found only dirt floors strewn about with refuse. For several long heartbeats nothing transpired, and Sarah began to believe Halsey had made a mistake. She was near to voicing this opinion when the sound of pounding feet drew her attention.

From the darkened end of the hallway, a boy of perhaps twelve years emerged in a full run, his clothing and face streaked with grime. As he came nearer, Sarah saw stark desperation in his eyes. He stopped abruptly, spinning about as if expecting something to be in pursuit. When he found nothing, he sagged against the wall opposite of Sarah and her companions, panting and clutching his head.

“Hello, David.”

Sarah’s breath caught in her throat at the familiar tones of Lord Jareth. He had suddenly appeared leaning against the wall next to the boy. He wore terrible black armor which lent this casual posture an element of malice. Sarah’s heart quaked when she recalled a forgotten nightmare where he had threatened her, taunted her.

Jareth smiled down at the boy, and never before had Sarah seen such a lurid expression. “Will you give up your foolhardy quest, boy? Or do you still believe yourself capable of defeating my Labyrinth?”

Fear made the boy’s jaw quiver, but he screwed up his courage, straightening to meet the Fae Lord’s penetrating look with a defiant gaze. “Do your worst, King of the Goblins. I made it this far, haven’t I? I’m not frightened of you!”

Jareth threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh. “What a sad, ignorant little creature you are.” He rose to his full height and seemed to tower over the boy. “You should fear me,” he said, taking a step closer to David. “You should cower before me in abject terror, but you’re too simple to know the danger you’re in.”

The next words Jareth spoke curdled the blood in Sarah’s veins. “I could,” he said in horrifyingly quiet and calm tones, “strip the flesh from your bones if I so desired, with nothing more than a thought. I could lay waste to everything you hold precious. I could make your every nightmare a reality, and I would feel no pity for you.” The corners of his lips curved up in a villainous grin. “Do you still wish me to do my worst?”

David’s lip quivered and large tears spilled from his eyes, leaving tracks of pink flesh in the grit on his cheeks, but he stood his ground. Sarah found herself admiring the boy’s determination in the face of his tormentor.

Jareth shook his head. “As I said, you’re too simple to understand your precarious situation.” He stepped back and threw his hand toward the opposite wall, and Sarah gasped out of fear that she and the others had been discovered. She let out a breath of relief when just beyond his reach an ornate clock appeared, hanging in the air.

“Perhaps we should up the stakes,” Jareth said. He twisted his fingers and the minute hand on the clock moved in response.

With each rotation, new fear blossomed on David’s features, until he sputtered in horror, “You cannot do this!”

The spinning hand on the clock stopped, three hours ahead of where it was before. Jareth turned back to the boy with a mocking laugh. “Can I not?”

“But I have only four hours left to me now!” David’s voice cracked, his false bravado fleeing.

Jareth seemed to find the boy’s distress all the more amusing. “Indeed.”

David fell weeping to his knees, and Sarah’s heart rent in two for the tragic soul even as her hatred of Jareth was born anew. “Please,” David begged, grasping at the malevolent man before him. “Please, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to wish him away.” The rest of his plea devolved to gulping wails.

With a scornful look, Jareth stepped out of the boy’s reach. “I haven’t even begun to answer your challenge, you mewling scum. Stand up and face the consequences of your defiance.” He raised a hand, and Sarah feared that he would strike at the contrite boy—or worse.

Unable to bear the scene further, she stepped out of the safety of Edmund’s cloaking spell. “Enough!”

Jareth whipped his head to face her, his eyes widening as if she were an apparition. His brows furrowed, confusion plain on his handsome features. “Miss Williams.” There was the barest hint of question in his voice.

Sarah took a deep breath, pressing forward in spite of her pounding heart. “You must stop this cruelty at once!”

Jareth’s glaze slid from her to where she had appeared from, and his expression turned flat. He could see the others now, and profound fury turned his pale skin crimson. Sarah’s every instinct told her to flee upon witnessing the depth of Jareth’s wrath.

“Get her out of here,” he said, the sinews in his neck straining with each word. When no one moved to obey, he shouted, “_Get her out of here now!_”

A hand fell on her shoulder, and in a vertiginous whirl of color, she was transported back to the bright gardens where they had been picnicking. Her limbs shook with rage and horror. She heard the others arrive alongside her, and they began speaking at once of the ordeal. Their words, however, seemed to come from some great distance to her ears.

“I’ll wager that you got exactly what you wanted with that little scheme, Halsey,” Edmund said bitterly.

“Am I a seer, now?” the other man replied with a mirthless laugh. “You speak as though I could have predicted any of this.”

“But you knew the manner in which he must fulfill his obligations!” Edmund shot back. “You were reared to take the throne—same as Kingston. You _knew_, Halsey!”

Strangely detached from the argument, Sarah wondered briefly what it was that Halsey was supposed to have known. Was it that in order to rule the monsters one had to be a monster? She wanted to laugh, scream, and weep all at once.

_I could make your every nightmare a reality, and I would feel no pity for you._

This was the man she had begun to respect, and the truth of his character was laid bare in that horrible statement.

“Take us home,” she said in a hoarse voice to no one in particular. “Please, take us home.”

Edmund stepped forward and offered his hands. “Gladly, Miss Williams.” He gave Halsey a final contemptuous look before whisking the cousins back to the Williams estate.

Sarah grasped her cousin as soon as they were at the steps of the mansion. If Jareth’s behavior had shaken Sarah, surely poor, sweet Elizabeth was utterly overwhelmed. “Oh, cousin,” Sarah began but she was at a loss. How did one explain away what they had just witnessed?

“Miss Williams,” Edmund said, taking a tentative step toward the young women, “You must understand—”

Sarah held up her hand, releasing her cousin. “Please, Mr. Locksley. I do not think I can bear any more prevarications.”

Edmund shook his head ruefully and looked heavenward. “In the very moment I would speak plainly, I am undone by a history of mischief and jests.” He returned his gaze to Sarah, his green eyes boring into her as if prove his guilelessness. “I know all of this seems beyond the pale, but there is much you do not yet comprehend.”

“I have no need to comprehend anything,” Sarah replied before he could speak further. “I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be thrown into the company of the Fae, to be exposed to your artifice.”

“Sarah Williams, you have been the center of intrigue since your birth!” Edmund snapped. He seemed as surprised as Sarah by his outburst. Raking a hand through his hair, he continued, “Nothing is what it seems, Miss Williams. You have lived in blithe ignorance for most of your life, but to cling to it now is like a blind man swearing that colors do not exist simply because he has not seen them.”

Sarah would have happily told him that her so-called ignorance was far more tolerable than his brand of reality, but the front door burst open at that moment and a maid dashed out waving a letter.

“Miss Ingleby!” She held out the parchment to Elizabeth. “This came for you while you were out!”

Elizabeth took the letter, and Sarah held her breath as she read its contents. “Oh, Sarah!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “My mother has fallen ill!” She looked at Sarah with wide, fearful eyes. “I must return home at once.”

“Gather your things,” Edmund said, “and I will convey you there, myself.” When Sarah gave him a look of mistrust, he added, “I swear that no harm will come to her, by my hand or any other.”

Sarah studied him for a moment to determine his sincerity before relenting. “You have our thanks, Mr. Locksley.”

As the three followed the servant into the house, Sarah dearly hoped her aunt’s illness was not too severe. She could not abide another unhappy turn in her life.

* * *

The rest of the evening seemed unnaturally quiet in contrast to the turmoil of the afternoon. The only excitement after Elizabeth’s departure had been the Toby’s tantrum during supper. Ferris hauled him away as he screamed for his mother, and Sarah watched the scene with little interest.

After making attempt at needlepoint for an hour, Sarah decided her efforts were futile and retired early to her rooms. She was plagued with recent events—had it all truly happened in the same day?—and the cure seemed to be rest. Perhaps she might wake on the morrow and find this all to have been some terrible, vivid dream. Elizabeth would be waiting for her at breakfast, anxious for a day of mortal diversions. The thought was pleasant, though Sarah knew it would not come to pass.

“Miss,” Lucy said as she brushed Sarah’s hair that evening, “I hesitate to speak of such things, but there is a bit of gossip among the servants that concerns you.”

Sarah’s heart made a sickly flutter. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Lucy looked pained to share her news. “My cousin works for the Kingstons, and well, an argument between Lord Jareth and Lord Halsey was overheard. They were arguing about you.”

“Me?” Sarah frowned, worried about what the brothers could have said. “When was this argument?”

“A week ago or more, Miss. I only just heard, or I would have told you sooner.” Lucy stopped brushing Sarah’s hair. “That the two lords were arguing over you is of little import—most have long thought both have plans to make an offer for you. I know of your dislike of the Fae, Miss, so I paid no mind to such rumors.”

Sarah remained silent, though the thought that others believed the brothers to be competing for her affections was rather galling.

“It seems that Lord Halsey accused Lord Jareth of taking liberties with you—by way of marking you.” There was a weight to Lucy’s revelation, as if it was dire news, only Sarah did not understand why.

“Mark? I don’t understand.” She feared hearing any more.

“The Fae place a magical mark on those they claim. It is only visible to others of their kind.” Lucy’s voice dropped low as she said, “It is said when a Fae marks another, he has taken her as a lover.”

A furious blush rose to Sarah’s face as she understood the ramifications. “And Lord Jareth has placed such a mark on me?”

Lucy shook her head. “I cannot believe that he would be so brazen as to mark you, Miss. Even the Fae have their rules, few as they may be. But there are those who are happy to accept such exaggerated lies—especially after the ball. Gossip is the only entertainment some have.”

Sarah’s cheeks burned deeper as she recalled her waltz with Jareth. She had known then that the act would send society into fits of whispers and conjectures, and here the man was further besmirching her reputation. She wanted to believe he hadn’t done this reprehensible thing, but had not Halsey once told her that his brother had done her a disservice? Is this what he had meant?

“You can be assured,” Sarah said with all the calm of a lady, hiding the tempest of emotion building within her, “that I am not, and never will be, Lord Jareth’s lover. But I thank you for bringing this to my attention.” She sighed. “I’ve grown tired. You may go.”

Lucy gave her a half-bow and left the room. Sarah stared at herself in the mirror, wondering if having just a bit of Fae blood was enough for her to see the mark—if there was one at all. Did he need to touch her to place the marks? Or was will only needed? She thought of the few times when she had any physical contact with Jareth. He had touched her arm and her cheek at dinner once—and her jaw weeks later. There were no marks she could discern on her face, but then, that did not mean they did not exist.

And then she recalled the kisses he had placed in the inside of her wrist. She brought her hand up, ignoring the chills that prickled across her flesh at the memory of those uninvited intimacies. Her pale skin seemed undisturbed, but as she studied her wrist, it began to glitter faintly. The longer she looked at the mark, the brighter it became—chasing away any hope that she had imagined it. Sarah’s chest constricted in dismay and anger as she rubbed madly at the imprint to no avail.

The air in the room contracted, and Sarah was filled with sudden dread, thinking she had somehow invoked a curse by attempting to remove the mark. A second later the room exploded with a burst of wind that billowed the curtains and knocked the bottles on her vanity askew. Jareth appeared in the center of the maelstrom, as furious as when she’d last seen him. She swallowed down a scream.

“You willful, seditious girl!” he said when his eyes found hers.

Sarah rose, clutching her robes tightly around her chest. His expression of rage inspired a tremor in her heart, but she would not be cowed. “How dare you intrude in my private rooms! You will leave at once!”

“I will not!” he returned, advancing on her. “How dare you interfere with the affairs of the Goblin King!”

She thought he had been summoned somehow by the mark, and a moment passed before she understood that he had come to censure her for interrupting his horrible treatment of the boy. Neither defense justified this inappropriate incursion, however.

“That boy was all tears and contrition, and you mocked him with what horrors you could afflict upon him!” She stood straight, returning his fell gaze with all of the loathing she felt for him. “How could I have restrained myself in the face of such cruel inequity? You may be devoid of any feeling, but my conscience could bear it no more, sir.”

“You understand nothing, Miss Williams. Nothing.” He closed the distance between them, clearly meaning to intimidate her by his force of presence. “The first kindness that cur ever showed his brother was to wish him away. From his birth, the boy suffered at the hands of his jealous elder brother—small torments at first which eventually grew to gross abuses. It was a mercy that the wretch thought wishing his brother to the goblins to be more abominable than killing the boy himself.”

Jareth’s face twisted in disgust. “He only chose to run the Labyrinth out of fear of retribution from his mother,” he said. “Make no mistake, the display of tears and contrition, as you call it, was merely a ploy to inspire some feeling of compassion on my part, but there is no love in that creature—no sorrow.”

“How can you know all this?” Sarah asked, thinking he must have conjured these revolting details in order to excuse his own atrocious behavior.

Exhaustion flashed briefly across his features, but he trained his expression back to haughty arrogance. “It is part of the ancient magic of the Labyrinth.”

“And I suppose you think that enough to vindicate your monstrous acts.” Though a portion of her outrage had bled away with Jareth’s confession, she still believed him to have been unduly hard on the boy.

“You speak of fairness, Miss Williams,” he replied with derision, “when you have never offered the same impartiality to me. I would tell you that when I inherited the goblin throne I became bound to fulfill the expectations of every runner, but you will not hear it. You decided on my character before we met, and you will accept only those truths and lies which fit your presumptions. All else you dismiss without prejudice. Your inflexibility grows wearisome.”

His bold indictment of her left her speechless. Had she truly become so bullheaded that she was unwilling to see him as more than an insufferable scoundrel? But no, he had been such a man at their every encounter. More than that, he had done something unforgivable!

She held up her arm to display the mark he had placed there against her wishes—or would have been, had she known of these things. “If you are more than the man I think you to be, then where is your evidence? I have every proof to support my claim.”

His eyes flicked to her wrist and widened almost imperceptibly with surprise. Silently, he grasped her arm and scrutinized the effulgent spot. “You can see it, then.” He let her arm drop with a sigh. “You asked for evidence, and there it is.”

“Evidence that you’ve now exposed me to the worst sort of rumors! I am seen as the strumpet who lies with you every night!” She flushed with indignation, and with some other heat as her disloyal mind imagined what it would be like to be the subject of such rapacious attentions. This unwanted attraction to him further spurned her ire. “I am not chattel to be owned—least of all by you!”

Jareth smiled darkly. “Oh, it would have been infinitely simpler to seduce you.” He wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her against him. “Simpler and far, far pleasanter to awaken every hidden desire until you begged me to take you to my bed.” His gaze lingered on her lips and she thought he might kiss her. For a single horrifying breath, she feared she would allow him to before her resolve could be steeled.

He released her and stepped away with a smirk. “But once again you erroneously attribute libertine motives to my actions. That,” he said, waving a hand toward her wrist, “is nothing more than the symbol of my protection. It might even be called chivalrous since you are so keen on putting yourself in danger at every turn.”

Sarah scoffed at his circuitous logic, though within she reeled from his near wanton display but moments ago. “You deem it chivalrous to reduce me in the eyes of others to nothing more than a harlot to warm your bed?”

“If I were the degenerate you claim me to be,” he said, lip curling in a sneer, “then I would have left you to your own devices. By now you would have been warming someone’s bed. Perhaps even mine, if I were so inclined. So yes, it _is_ chivalry to keep your honor intact, if not your vaulted pride.”

“You speak as though I were some vacuous girl who would be unable to resist the solicitations from one such as yourself!” She grabbed hold of her contempt and let it burn away the wisps of temptation he may have enchanted from her earlier. “I would not capitulate so easily to anyone’s designs, not even yours.”

“You would surrender this very night if I so desired, reckless child.” Jareth pinned her with a sharp look. “You nearly have already.” He advanced on her with inhuman speed. “Here you offer me a new game with your careless words, and every fiber of my being demands that I rise to the provocation. This love of a challenge is the very nature of the Fae and you refuse to understand it. Even in your ignorance—” he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur, “—you are thoroughly Fae in this regard, and this makes your challenge even more difficult to resist.”

“Are all Fae incapable if bridling such impulsive inclinations?” The question came with less venom than she intended and far too breathless. How unfair that she was drawn to him when she despised him so!

“I _am_ bridling this inclination,” he said in a growl that pebbled her skin with gooseflesh. “But many cannot or will not.” He took her hand in his, and drawing it up, traced the mark on the inside of her wrist. “This is your safeguard so that you may merrily continue on in your willful blindness.”

“I neither want nor need your protection, especially in this manner.” Sarah wrenched her arm away. “In fact, I want nothing more to do with the Fae.”

Jareth laughed as though he had never heard anything so ridiculous before this moment. “Will you then have nothing more to do with yourself?” he asked. “That immortal blood in your veins is the purest and most powerful. You’ve no understanding of who or what you are!”

He laughed again, but with bitterness now. “This protection that you scorn is the very thing keeping hordes of scheming immortals from descending upon this house—the immortals whom you so desperately want to avoid.” He sighed heavily. “I am duty-bound by my family’s covenant with your grandfather to watch over you, but if you’re so determined to run headlong into disaster, then by all means, use your own magic to remove the mark.”

He stepped back, shaking his head. “You can go on stubbornly pretending you are just an ordinary mortal girl, but the time will come when you will no longer be able to deny the truth about yourself. You’ll wish then that you heeded my warnings.”

Jareth vanished without any sort of fanfare, and Sarah stared blankly for several minutes at the empty place he had occupied, attempting to make sense of all that had transpired. She fiercely wished Elizabeth were there—her sole anchor in this unrelenting storm of confusion and permutation. But there was no respite for Sarah now, no safe port, and there wouldn’t be anymore.

Overcome with helplessness, Sarah sank to the floor and wept brutally.


	9. Rending of Ignorance

Sarah fell into low spirits in the week following Elizabeth’s departure. Each morning she woke with a heart in turmoil and desperately ached to seek comfort in her only friend’s compassionate nature. More than once, Sarah considered making a trip to the north, but it would have been a selfish journey. She could not, in good conscience, appear at the Ingleby estate looking for Elizabeth to be the balm to her troubled soul when Aunt Mary had greater need of her. Furthermore, Sarah could not leave Toby solely in the care of servants. She may not love her brother as her father had hoped, but neither was she so unfeeling as to abandon him without any family.

And so, Sarah aimlessly roamed the halls of the mansion, like a specter unable to cast off this world but no longer a part of it. The house was strange to her now, devoid of the loved ones and heirlooms which had ever been her solace. In Elizabeth’s company, Sarah was able to pretend the alterations hadn’t been so drastic. Now, everything had become sharply alien—herself as well.

She scrutinized her reflection in the mirror while the echoes of Jareth’s declaration pricked her thoughts. Who was she—if not merely Sarah Williams, daughter of Robert Williams, Esquire? What was she? Human? Fae? Both and neither? And why would no one enlighten her? Why hadn’t her father told her of her true ancestry? Had it been for her protection—the same kind of fear for her safety which had inspired Jareth to mark her? What had she needed to be shielded from?

She studied her green eyes, her dark hair and pale skin. That familiar visage was terribly foreign now that she understood every feature had been born from her Fae heritage. She hated it. She hated that the life she had known was some carefully spun lie—one that was fraying at the seams. She would have happily lived out her years as a spinster, caring for her bachelor father and doting on Elizabeth’s children like a wealthy aunt.

She would never have these things, and she was angry—with her father for letting her believe the lie, with the Fae for refusing to reveal the truth.

“Who am I?” she asked her reflection. Silent tears glistened on her cheeks. She was broken, or near to it, and she didn’t know the shape of the woman she would become in the mending.

The air suddenly became too thin within these walls, and she rose from the vanity, hastily wiping her wet face. Bonnet in hand, Sarah escaped from the stifling mansion into the comforting warmth of spring.

She had no sense of direction as she walked but instead chased after the elusive freedom from her dark thoughts. There had been rain the night before, washing the hillsides with new life and vibrant color. She inhaled deeply the aroma of fresh earth as she always had, but let go of the breath with a bitter remembrance that this, too, was Fae.

Did nothing belong to her anymore—to the common mortal girl she had always thought herself to be?

She forced the unsettling thought away, and others like it, as she mindlessly trod the path. Instead she attempted to recall happier things. Elizabeth’s quiet laughter at Sarah’s brazen comments. Aunt Mary’s affectionate reproach of her bold manner. But in thinking of those whom she loved most, Sarah was reminded of her beloved aunt’s condition. There had been no word from Elizabeth yet and Sarah feared the worst.

Perhaps it was better not to think of anything at all.

At this conclusion, she became aware of her surroundings and, with surprise, realized she had unknowingly come to a stop on the hillock overlooking the great Labyrinth. She unconsciously touched the inside of her wrist as Lord Jareth entered her thoughts. Even if she knew how to remove the mark, was it wise to do so? The damage had already been done to her reputation among the mortals; erasing his brand would do little to quiet the gossipmongers. Whatever the Fae whispered about her could not be much worse.

And if this glittering spot on her wrist kept her free from unnecessary interaction with the immortals, was it not a gift? Evidence, indeed, of Jareth’s unusual type of gallantry?

She lowered herself to the damp grass, uncaring of her gown, and drew her knees up to her chin. Jareth had been correct about one thing at least: she knew nothing—absolutely _nothing_. But while he had meant it as an accusation, her naivety was through no fault of her own. How could she understand the danger she kept putting herself into if no one would deign to explain her place in this new world?

“I wonder at the thoughts in that pretty little head of yours, Miss Williams. You look so terribly morose.”

Edmund Locksley’s voice startled her only a little. A part of her had expected a visit from him as he seemed incapable of going very long without aggravating her for his entertainment. She had, perhaps in her loneliest moments, missed his company—though she was uncertain when he had made the transition from charming pest to something more endearing.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the spirit for our usual banter today, Mr. Locksley,” she said as he settled cross-legged next to her.

“You’re in luck then,” he replied with a smile, “for I have come to you not in search of playful arguments but to deliver to you this.” He pulled a letter out of the inside of his coat and handed it to her. “I took the liberty to look in on Miss Ingleby.”

Sarah’s heart leapt, and she tore open the seal, forgetting any semblance of good manners as her eyes devoured the letter’s contents.

_My dearest cousin,_

_I have worried so for you since my abrupt departure! I am very grateful to Mr. Locksley for bringing me home promptly, though it seems my mother had already taken a turn for the better by the time I arrived—much to my relief and, I hope, yours as I know of your fondness for her._

_She is not fully recovered yet, and I feel I ought to remain here until she is herself again—perhaps longer, as she has greatly missed her only child. I am torn between my love for both you and Mother. Please put my mind at ease by writing soon to tell me that you are well, or if not, that you’ve received permission from your father to come visit us!_

_I wish I could more eloquently convey my affection for you, dear Sarah. I wait anxiously for your reply._

_Love, Elizabeth_

Sarah read the letter over again, letting out the breath she felt she had been holding since Elizabeth left. Aunt Mary was out of danger. What beautiful news! Sarah folded the parchment and held it against her chest.

“Thank you,” she said when she remembered Mr. Locksley. “This was very kind of you.”

“Yes, well, even a rogue can pretend to be gentleman on the rare occasion.” He winked. “It’s been decades since my last lapse. I’ve been due for another.”

Sarah smiled. “I shan’t tell a soul your secret.”

His only reply was laughter, and they fell into a comfortable silence after that. Sarah was mildly surprised that he hadn’t spirited off to find other amusements, but did not comment on it. She was rather glad to have his company.

She thought of her growing acceptance of Edmund in contrast to her reticence to offer Jareth the same courtesy. Did she sincerely hate Lord Kingston? Or was it what he represented that she despised? She could deny that she was anything other than the girl she always thought herself to be—except in his presence. He was like the harsh light of the sun, exposing truths she would prefer to remain shadowed.

She had to face an unsavory fact: she did not truly know the man, and clinging to her loathing of him was childish. He had been right about this as well, and it pierced her to the core.

“What has you in such a pensive state, Miss Williams?” Edmund asked. “Surely you’re not still concerned about your aunt.”

Sarah shook her head. “No.” She gave him a sad smile as she wrapped her arms around her knees. “This blind girl is making a very poor attempt at seeing color.”

“Very serious business, indeed,” he said with mock consternation. “How goes the endeavor?”

“It all seems very grey, Mr. Locksley, and I don’t care for it.” Sarah let out a long sigh, feeling much older than her one and twenty years. “Why have I been the center of intrigue since my birth?”

“Now here is a question with no simple answer.” He stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands. “There is your parentage, of course. The royal family is always a source of gossip and speculation— especially the granddaughter of the would-be king who forsook all for the love of a human.”

She wondered that she hadn’t thought of this herself. Had Luella not told her once that the story of Baldric and Cara was a favorite among the Fae? Of course they would have some interest in the fruit of that love. But then, was the mortal offspring of a fallen prince so intriguing as to require the protection Jareth had given her? Her existence could not be anything more than a passing curiosity.

“But perhaps an even better reason for the whispers,” Edmund continued as if in answer to her silent question, “is your potential.”

“Potential?” Sarah raised her brows. “What potential have I that would inspire such preoccupation?”

“You could be nothing,” he replied with a shrug. “Or you could be more. We don’t know, and we find the mystery rather thrilling.”

She wanted to ask what she could be more of, but sensed he would have no answer for her. “My mother was Baldric’s daughter and more Fae than I. Was she of very great interest to your kind as well?”

“No.”

His quick reply brought back with shocking clarity her vision from the opera. _You are more than I ever could have been._ But what did “more” portend for Sarah? When and how would this potential manifest—if it did at all? Questions which begat other questions.

“She hadn’t needed protection, then.” Sarah held out her hand, displaying the mark.

Edmund glanced at the shining spot and nodded. “An inelegant solution, I admit,” said he, “but since you’ve come of age among the Fae, he had no other recourse.” He grinned, nudging her with his shoulder. “It must be a little fun, though, to set the realm afire with rumors! ‘Did you hear? Lord Kingston has taken a consort—King Phillip’s cast-off niece, no less! Never has there been a more shameless man since the dawning of our people!’”

“Perhaps I would find more entertainment in it if my virtue were not called into question,” Sarah replied with a dose of acrimony.

Edmund waved his hand dismissively. “But you know the truth of things, as do those who matter. Therein lies the amusement—if you but played along, Miss Williams.”

Sarah shook her head, though her cheeks burned faintly at the thought of playing the role of Jareth’s lover. “I am not given to such mischief.”

“Oh, but that’s not true!” Edmund gave her a knowing smile. “Sweet Miss Ingleby does not have an ill-behaved bone in her body, but you, Miss Williams, secretly like to trump your rules of decorum in little ways when it suits you. Just think of the misdeeds you could get up to if you were to combine forces with Kingston rather than fight against him—not that I don’t find your battle of wits thoroughly entertaining.”

“If I cannot beat him, then I had better join him, is it?” Sarah was surprised by her laughter. “Mr. Locksley, you are hopeless.”

“I know.” He flashed a wide grin. “Isn’t it delightful?”

“It is.” She returned his smile. “Against all good sense.”

“I knew I would wear you down one day. How wonderful that day is today!” He rose and, bowing, held out a hand to her. “Shall I escort you safely home, milady? You never know what nefarious designs these wildflowers have. I don’t trust them.”

Sarah laughed again as she took his hand. “I am sure you will vanquish the lot of them should they attack.”

“Not so! I plan to use you as my shield as I run like the coward I am.”

Unbidden tears of comfort welled in her eyes as she let him guide her down the path. It seemed she was not entirely friendless, after all.

* * *

As Edmund had strangely become Sarah’s ally, Toby had grown from a mere annoyance to outright enemy in the days following. Whether Sarah ignored his antics or lost her temper, it did nothing to quell his bad behavior. She wondered more than once if he were some changeling rather than a real mortal child.

The entire affair was made worse on the eve of her father’s expected return from the south. Early that morning, Sarah was wakened abruptly by Lucy with the news that Ferris had come down with some sort of stomach malady. The illness was a common one that would put the nursemaid out for a day or two, but the problem lay with finding someone to tend her wicked little charge during her confinement.

It turned out that Ferris was not the only one who had fallen ill, but half of the staff was suffering from the affliction as well. Those who were healthy were already given double and triple duty to make up for the lack, and Sarah reluctantly decided she had better care for her wayward stepbrother herself in the interim. The boy, in fact, could use some proper discipline.

Only, Toby did not at all agree this plan.

“Where is Ferris?” he asked when he came down for breakfast. He looked as though he had to be wrestled into his breeches and shirt—which was most likely the truth.

Sarah tapped at the shell of her soft-boiled egg. “She is ill. I am to be your nursemaid today.”

His young face contorted in anger. “But I don’t want you! I want Ferris!”

“We do not always get what we want,” she replied in calm tones, though his bad manners had already begun to rankle her. “Now you will sit down and have your meal like a good little boy.”

“I won’t!” He snatched his egg from the table and threw it at the wall. “I won’t and you can’t make me!”

Before Sarah could rise from her chair, he dashed out of the room. The front door crashed open with a bang mere seconds later, and it occurred to her that this endeavor could prove notably more challenging than she had anticipated. Suppressing a sigh, she set down her spoon and left her breakfast behind to set off after the little devil.

It took Sarah a better part of an hour to find her stepbrother. He was in the gardens, beating the rosebushes to shreds with a large stick.

“Stop this at once!” Sarah exclaimed. She grabbed him at the waist, careful to avoid his wild swings.

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” Toby screamed, drawing the attention of the gardeners.

Sarah was able to wrench the piece of wood free from the boy’s grasp before he could further damage the foliage—or her. “Calm yourself!”

“No!” He violently thrashed about as she heaved him back toward the house. “I hate you! I hate you!”

Though his passionate disclosure was hardly surprising, his words still provoked her ire. “I’m not overly fond of you, either,” she admitted under her breath. It was only with the help of Roger that Sarah was able to get the boy inside at all.

She decided that some time spent in reflection might do her brother well, and so she sent him to his rooms with the expressed understanding that he was not to emerge until he was prepared to act as a proper young gentleman. She heard nothing from him for the rest of the morning and she enjoyed the reprieve.

She went to retrieve the boy for an afternoon repast, thinking to offer him a picnic in the gardens as a reward for his apparent good behavior. Her stomach dropped like a ball of lead when she discovered Toby had escaped his detention—though she was not certain how he had done it. She sagged against his doorframe, at a loss as to where to begin her search. Only half a day and she was more tired than she had ever been before. However did Ferris manage it?

With the help of the few remaining servants, Sarah scoured the entire mansion, leaving no nook or cranny untouched. Toby was not to be found anywhere within the confines of the house, and the hunt soon moved to the grounds.

Hours later, the waning sunlight darkened the landscape with long shadows, and there was still no sign of Toby. Panic took hold of Sarah with icy fingers as she feared the worst. They had searched under every shrub, turned their gazes up to every tree limb, but it was as if the boy had vanished entirely. Oh, what would her father think of her if she had lost his young stepson? How Karen would hate her!

She was numbly aware of Roger passing torches to the other servants, directing them to travel beyond the edges of the property. The air grew chill at nightfall with a crisp breeze tickling at the nape of her neck. Toby could not survive the elements dressed in a mere shirt and trousers! Armed with a lantern, Sarah set off toward their nearest neighbor, intent on seeking further aid.

She had hardly stepped on the bare earth of the avenue when she saw a figure heading toward her with a smaller being in tow. She squinted in the darkness and was just able to discern the features of Halsey Kingston. He had Toby by the collar, dragging him toward the mansion.

Nearly undone with relief, Sarah sprinted toward the pair. “Roger!” she yelled as an afterthought. “Roger, he has been found! Call off the search!”

“Let go of me, you devil!” Toby took a swipe at Halsey, but the Fae Lord deftly sidestepped the boy’s little fist.

“My lord,” Sarah said with a hasty curtsey. “We are in your debt.”

“I thought you might have lost something.” Halsey grinned, though there was something hollow and unfeeling about it. Sarah chose to believe it a trick of the shadows.

Roger arrived then and retrieved Toby who shouted angry epithets with every step toward the house. Sarah could hardly contain her outrage. How dare he run off, leaving everyone to worry! How dare he play the part of a spoiled little boy when finally discovered! What a horrible, _horrible_ miscreant her brother was.

“I found him attempting to scale a tree just outside the walls of the Labyrinth,” Halsey said, drawing Sarah’s attention back to him.

“I cannot thank you enough.” Sarah brushed the back of her hand across her forehead. “It was fortunate that you happened upon him.”

“Indeed.” He glanced in the direction that Roger and Toby had gone, fingers rubbing against the palm of his hand as if to wipe away any contact he’d had with her stepbrother. “He is rather fractious, isn’t he? Bringing him home was no simple feat.”

Sarah sighed. “Unfortunately my brother is not the easiest of children.”

Halsey turned back to her with a shrewd gaze. “I should say so. It’s a wonder that someone hasn’t wished him away already.” Before Sarah could protest against such a callous notion, Halsey gave her a rueful smile. “Forgive my impertinence, Miss Williams. I meant no harm.”

“Of course.” A part of her had, in fact, agreed with Halsey and she felt terribly ashamed.

“I shall take my leave of you, then,” Halsey said, bowing. “I hope the rest of your day is less…exciting.”

Sarah offered him another curtsey as he faded before her. She took a deep, steeling breath and returned to the house. How was she to discipline Toby after this? Sending him to his rooms had been the catalyst for this nightmare. Was she to attach herself to him every waking moment? Perhaps so, though she found the idea keenly disagreeable. It was terribly selfish of her to hope that Ferris would recover quickly, but Sarah hoped it all the same. She was simply incapable of reining Toby in on her own.

Roger waited for her in the foyer. “Master Tobias has sequestered himself in his quarters, Miss Willaims. I took the liberty of ensuring his windows latched.”

“Thank you, Roger. I’ll go to him.” Her weariness was palpable now as she climbed the stairs. She glanced at the muddied hem of her gown and decided to change before taking on the distasteful task of reproving her brother.

What she found in her chambers, however, dashed her heart to smithereens.

Her mother’s wedding gown lay on her bed, shredded. She picked up the fabric with quaking hands and clutched it against her breast. Horror and fury choked her, sending hot tears tumbling down her cheeks. Of all the monstrosities Toby had visited upon her, this one was the worst of all. She had nothing left of her mother’s now. Nothing.

Insurgent rage propelled her out of her rooms and down the hall to his. She banged his door open and held out the ruined garment as she advanced on the wide-eyed child.

“What have you done, you loathsome creature?” she said, voice cracking with emotion. “What have you done, Toby!?”

His brow furrowed. “I didn’t—”

“Do not lie to me!” Blood pounded in her ears and her face burned with anger.

“I’m not lying!” he yelled back.

She shook the gown at him, unable to bridle her temper. “You…you wicked, horrible beast! Is it not enough that you ran away, causing myself and the servants to spend the day in a fruitless search!? Is it not enough that you leave mayhem and destruction in your wake!?” Her voice rose with each accusation until she was screaming. “At every turn you have made life miserable! There has been no respite from your despicable behavior!”

Tears welled in Toby’s blue eyes at her tirade. “I hate you! I wish Mama had never brought us here!”

“This was my mother’s!” Sarah choked down a sob. “This was my mother’s, Toby! It was all I had left of her!”

“She’s dead!”

Sarah’s mouth fell open in horror at his invidious remark. The next words that fell from her lips came of their own volition and she wished with every fiber of her being she could take them back.

“I wish the goblins would come to take you away, right now!”

Toby looked up at her with terror. What had she done? Stupid, selfish girl!

“I didn’t mean it,” she said both to her brother and in the desperate hope that she might be able to repudiate her hideous wish. “I didn’t mean it!” As though in cruel mockery, she recalled the affected pleas of the boy in the Labyrinth. _Please, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to wish him away._ Would she sound as insincere to Jareth’ ears?

Wind rattled the window panes until they blew open, snuffing out the candles in the room. Sarah groped for her brother and pulled him tight against her as raspy laughter flittered about them.

Toby buried his face into her dress. “I’m frightened!” came his muffled cry.

His fear slashed at her heart, wicking away any vestige of fury she had felt toward him. “I’m so terribly sorry, Toby.” She had thought his behavior unconscionable, but hers was worse. Infinitely so.

Brother and sister clung to each other as the tempest swirled about them. An eternity seemed to pass before the air stilled. Sarah sensed they were no longer alone in the darkness, but she dared not look—dared not gaze upon Lord Jareth, the King of the Goblins who had come to answer her wish.

“Well, well, well, Miss Williams. Of all beings in this realm, I thought you might have known better. How very wrong I was.”

Though there was mockery in that familiar baritone, Sarah felt his disappointment and it cut her to the quick. Would he decide her unworthy of his protection and throw her to the wolves? He ought to. She deserved whatever penance he would require of her.

With great trepidation, she raised her eyes to him. He stood before them, hands on hips, in tattered black armor—the very same that he had worn in the dingy halls of the Labyrinth. Moonlight streamed through his wild hair, illuminating his handsome face. His expression was cold, unforgiving, and Sarah shrank from him.

“Please,” she pleaded, “I know I’m undeserving of any mercy, but if you would take me in his stead—”

“Hold your tongue!” Jareth closed the distance between them with unnatural speed.

Her heart thrummed violently in her chest, but she refused to give up her cause. “I will do anything to win my brother back, though you must think me an unpardonable wretch.”

“Do _not_,” said Jareth, visage twisted in scorn, “presume to know my opinion of you, Miss Williams.”

Voices snickered among the shadows.

He glanced down at the boy she clutched tightly in her arms. “For your father’s sake, I will take neither you nor the child.”

At this, there was an ear-piercing uproar from the unseen beings—goblins, Sarah surmised. Toby burrowed deeper into the folds of her skirts. She feared the creatures would tear her brother away at any moment.

“Am I not your king!?” Jareth shouted above the din. “You will have your restitution. Begone!” Swift, unsettling silence overtook the room as the goblins apparently obeyed their monarch. Sarah’s breath sounded too shaky, too loud in her ears as she wondered what bargain Jareth had made with his subjects.

He crouched down, bringing himself level with her brother. “Now, you have been a very naughty boy, Tobias,” he said, studying the child. “But I think not anymore, yes?”

Toby nodded his head, though he still gripped Sarah with fervor.

“There’s a clever boy.” Jareth smiled as he rose. “Run along and torment your sister no more.”

Toby glanced at Sarah as if seeking her approval before fleeing the room. She watched him leave with renewed dread. Surely Jareth would announce the form of her expiation now—something severe and unpalatable. Something worthy of this atrocity.

He said nothing at first, scanning the room instead until his gaze lighted upon the remains of her mother’s wedding gown on the floor. Her heart ached to be reminded of its demise as Jareth retrieved it and studied its shambled state with a frown.

“The impetus for your wish?” he asked.

Fresh tears stung in Sarah’s eyes as she answered quietly, “Yes.” Any benevolent feeling he had before on her behalf must have been utterly destroyed now—and so soon after she had resolved to think better of him! Perhaps they were fated to always be at odds. The thought tied a knot in her gut.

He handed the garment to her. “You place too much value on sentiment,” he muttered with disapproval.

She bowed her head, duly reprimanded. “I thank you for your generosity, milord.”

“Generosity?” His laughter was pitiless. “Oh no, Miss Williams. You have incurred a debt, and know this,” he said, lifting her chin with a finger, “I intend to collect.” He held her gaze for several tremulous heartbeats before disappearing.

She let out the breath she had been holding and made for her chambers. Chills prickled her skin as she tried not to speculate Jareth’s promise for retribution.

Toby approached her in the hallway, apprehension etched into his youthful face. “Did he hurt you?” he inquired anxiously.

“No.” She shook her head. “He was…kind.” At least for this encounter. She did not care to think about what awaited her in the future.

Toby bit his lip and drew his brows into a deep furrow. “Can I stay with you?”

His quiet petition cleaved her heart with guilt. In this moment he was every bit a scared and lonely little boy—a far cry from the beastly child who had been a burr in her side since she first met him. She thought of her father’s admonition to be patient with her stepbrother—that he too suffered from the drastic changes in their lives.

“Of course,” she said, embracing him and feeling every bit a reprobate. “You can stay with me as long as you like.”

Later, after Toby had fallen asleep, she opened the chest at the foot of her bed. Though she was saddened to have lost her sole keepsake from her mother, she well understood now that her brother mattered more. With a heavy sigh, she began to lay out the gown in an attempt to fold it in some manner for storage.

Her hands fell away in disbelief as she stared at it. Every tear, every cut was gone—as if the dress had never been marred in the first place. She wept then, out of gratitude and sorrow. Gratitude for Jareth’s charity, no matter his claim otherwise. And sorrow for how savagely she had misjudged him—for how terribly cruel she had been to Toby.

The scales of her ignorance were falling away, one painful sliver at a time.


	10. The Absolution of the Young

“Ferris, what have you done with the boy?” Karen asked at dinner a week after their return from the South. “He’s positively docile.”

“I have no explanation, madam,” Ferris answered with a frown. “Perhaps he has finally grown accustomed to his new life.”

Sarah cast a surreptitious glance at her brother as shame colored her cheeks. He returned her look with a furtive one of his own, apprehension widening his eyes. The prickly vine of guilt had become Sarah’s constant companion since that horrible night.

She had wanted her brother to change for the better, but not through these means.

Karen made a vague noise. “Yes, well, I do hope his spirit is not gone for good.” She cut another piece of her ham and just before taking a bite, added, “Little boys are meant to be lively creatures.”

Sarah gaped at her stepmother, though she supposed she ought not to have been surprised anymore by Karen’s preposterous notions. The woman seemed to believe ferocious children magically turned into angelic youths without any intervention from their mothers. Or their fathers, for that matter. Sarah looked to the man who had raised her—who had disciplined her as a girl and demanded good manners from her. Why had he let Toby run amuck?

But then, Robert had more to answer for than this, hadn’t he?

And so did Sarah.

Her stomach churned as she thought of her own culpability with regards to her brother. They had all done the boy an injustice in their own way. She had lost the right to judge her parents the moment she wished Toby to the goblins.

She had yet to confess to her father what she had done and Toby had kept the secret as well. His silence was likely born out of his fear of Jareth’s return. Each night, Toby asked her earnestly, “I’ve been good today, haven’t I? He won’t come for me again, will he?” And each time, Sarah embraced her brother and assured him that he was quite safe.

Her own safety, however, was another matter entirely.

She had not heard from Lord Jareth—or his siblings—since the incident. Even Edmund hadn’t interrupted her daily walks with his playful banter. Though the snubbing was well-earned, Sarah had never felt more alone in her one and twenty years.

This had been what she wanted—to be free of further dealings with the Kingstons and their ilk. How she had romanticized being left to her own devices! Reality turned out to be a rather bitter fruit. And there was nothing to be done for it. At least, other than whatever payment Jareth would require of her. She doubted it would alter his low opinion of her for the better, however.

She despised having such a black mark laid bare before her enemies. Not that Jareth was an enemy, but neither was he her friend. Weeks before she would have called him the ubiquitous thorn in her side. And just before her terrible wish, she might have said he was her protector—in the loosest of terms. And now? Well, she supposed she would know when he finally deigned to collect on her debt.

“What has you looking so morose?” Karen asked, startling Sarah from her melancholy thoughts.

“I… I am merely tired,” she answered. “I think I shall retire for the evening. Will you excuse me?”

“A girl her age shouldn’t look so worn, Robert,” Karen said as Sarah rose from her seat. “People will believe we’re not taking proper care of our daughter. Perhaps we ought to have Roger send for the doctor.”

Sarah pressed her hand to her forehead. _Our_ daughter? The woman had no claim on her! “I am well, truly. I only need rest.” _And a respite from your incessant nattering_, she wanted to add but wisely did not say. In this, she envied the Fae, Jareth in particular—this freedom to speak one’s mind and care not a whit for the consequences of doing so.

Once inside her rooms, she leaned against the door. She _was_ tired. Made threadbare from the unbearable tangle of secrets. She realized in this moment, however, that she was even more tired of lamenting her less than desirable circumstances. What was the point of bemoaning the unwanted alterations to her life other than to drive her further into misery?

Life was never fair and never would be. Wouldn’t it be a far nobler endeavor to chase the sunshine to be had rather than weep over immutable clouds?

There was a soft knock at the door, and Sarah sighed before pulling it open. Toby stood at the threshold, kicking at the floor. “May I stay with you tonight?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said, stepping aside to allow him entry.

Since the incident, it had been his habit to spend the evening in her company. She was uncertain whether this was the beginnings of a true sibling bond, or if he was fearful that Jareth would steal him away should he not make an adequate effort at being well-behaved. On her part, was it only guilt which drove her to accept his pleasanter attentions? Did it matter, if in the end, they got on far better than they ever had before?

“Will you tell me a story?” Toby asked as he flounced on her bed.

“Certainly.” She sat on the edge of the mattress with a smile. “Which tale shall I tell you?”

He screwed up his youthful face in serious thought. The expression was rather endearing. “Tell me the one about the dashing prince who fights goblins to save the princess!” He slashed his arm about as though cutting down his foes with a rapier.

“I don’t believe I know this story,” she said, frowning. “Will you tell it to me instead?”

He flopped on his back. “I can’t remember all of it. There was a goblin king, and he stole a princess and he locked her away in his castle. And then a prince heard of it and swore to rescue her.”

Apparently inspired by his recounting of the tale, Toby leapt off the bed and pretended to do battle. “The prince had to fight an entire goblin army, but he dispatched the wretched creatures with ease!” He brandished an invisible sword and darted about the room, fighting imaginary goblins.

Energy spent, he returned to Sarah. “There’s kissing after that.” He scrunched his nose. “I don’t like that part.”

Sarah laughed. “It is rather vile, isn’t it?”

Toby giggled behind his hand, and for the first time since their initial meeting, Sarah felt the embers of sisterly affection come alive. He wasn’t quite so devilish as she had once believed him to be. Her father had been right in the end, and she was ashamed she had been too mired in her own woes to see it. Her brother’s life had been as upended as hers, and being only a young boy, he lacked the ability to convey his displeasure but through tantrums and mischief.

He climbed back onto the bed and laid his head against her shoulder. “Do you think he done it?”

“Who, Toby? Done what?” she asked, perplexed by his sudden soberness.

“You know,” he whispered, glancing about the room as if they might be overheard, “the goblin king. Did he really steal a princess and lock her away?”

Sarah thought of Jareth—the newly coronated King of the goblins. The idea of him taking captive some young woman seemed laughable, regardless of lore. If there was any truth to the tale, Jareth would not have been the dastardly king in question. And it was likely the prince had wished the princess away in the first place.

“I haven’t,” another voice answered before she could form a reply.

Toby sucked in a breath and hid behind Sarah as Jareth stepped out of the shadows. The contrast of his pale coloring with his inky attire made him appear like an ethereal angel, a mixture of darkness and light. His pleasant demeanor did little to quell her thrumming heart, however. The time had come to pay the piper, it seemed.

“At least, not yet,” he continued, giving Sarah a wink as though they shared in some secret jest. Eyes leaving hers, he tilted his head and addressed her brother, “Hello, Tobias.”

Toby ducked lower behind Sarah, gripping the back of her gown.

“Oh, you needn’t fear me,” Jareth said in placating tones. “You’ve been quite well-behaved since my last visit, my young friend.”

Peeking over Sarah’s shoulder, Toby asked, “You’ve not come to take me away?”

“Not at all. Although…” Jareth tapped a finger against his chin. “Is it not your bedtime? Hm?”

“Nearly so,” Toby answered quietly. He still gripped Sarah’s dress, though not as tightly as before.

“Well, then perhaps you had better get to it.” Jareth took a step back, still wearing a kindly smile, as if to prove that he was no longer playing the role of the villainous goblin king.

After a moment’s hesitation, Toby climbed down off the bed and made for the door, though he paused just before opening it. He cast a worried glance at Sarah.

“Your newfound loyalty to your sister is admirable,” Jareth said. “I give you my word that she, too, is perfectly safe from the King of the Goblins. Will that satisfy you?”

Toby nodded, though he only exited when Sarah rose to meet him. “It’s all right, Toby,” she murmured. “You can go now.”

She wished there was another to give her such comfort as she closed the door. All manner of visions of what Jareth might require of her sparked in her unchecked imagination—each more horrible than the last.

“Does my father know you’ve come?” she asked in a quiet voice, unable to face her arbiter just yet.

“Does he know of what transpired between you and your brother?” Jareth returned, his voice entirely too near.

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“I thought not.” His fingers grasped her elbow, spinning her to face him. He looked her over in protracted silence, and she thought she might collapse beneath the unbearable tension. Oh, if he would but declare her miserable fate already and be done with it!

“This will do,” he murmured. Before she could inquire after his meaning, he clasped her arm and, without warning, whisked them away in a dizzying swirl of color.

They arrived in a large chamber—in the Kingston castle, Sarah presumed from the familiar stonework. The room was furnished with a canopied bed, a cradle, and a rocker near an oversized hearth. A chest lay open in the center, full of dolls and wooden toys.

“What is this place?” she asked, unable guess what lay in store for her.

Jareth smirked as he leaned against the bedpost. “Why, I’ve stolen away with the princess to my castle.” He gestured to indicate the chamber. “Your tower, madam. Though, I am disappointed that the story fails to expound upon my motivations for such a devious act. And who is this prince, I wonder, that will decimate my goblin armies in your name?”

An appropriate response failed her. Surely he did not intend to keep her locked away as payment for her wish. As much as she wanted to believe him incapable of such malice, she could not quell the tremors of disquiet in her chest.

The door to the chamber opened and a middle-aged servant stepped inside, carrying a babe in her arms.

“Ah!” Jareth clapped his hands. “Here is your new charge, Miss Williams. At least for the next thirteen hours.” He directed the servant to pass the little one over to Sarah and then dismissed her.

The child—a girl from her dingy gown—stared at Sarah with wide, fearful eyes. Her rosebud mouth quivered as though she wanted to cry out but was too frightened to do so. Sarah’s heart clenched as she thought of her young brother who had narrowly missed being thrown in with strangers in a strange castle as he awaited his fate. Her ever-present guilt bore over her like a tumultuous sea.

“Is she—?” She was unable to finish the question as she brought her gaze to meet Jareth’s.

“One of the innocents cast to the goblins? Yes.” He drew close to her, his expression softening as he looked down at the bundle in her arms. “You are safe now, little Mary. Miss Williams will tend you well.”

The sincerity in his tone made Sarah’s breath catch. While he had been kindly with Toby just moments ago, there had still been in an edge of danger about him—as though Jareth had not wanted her brother to forget who he was. Now, however, there was naught but genuine tenderness written in his features. He shared a glance with Sarah and she realized she had never known him at all. More than ever, she desperately wanted to understand this inscrutable man. As he held her gaze, she sensed that, if she but asked, he might allow her access to those facets of his character kept locked away from the world.

Mary began to wail and the moment was lost. Jareth retreated, donning once more the mask of a smirking Fae lord. “You’ve your work cut out for you, it seems,” he said. “Best of luck, Miss Williams.” He vanished without any fanfare.

Recalling her newfound determination not to dwell on setbacks, Sarah allowed herself only a flicker of disappointment, though it was a challenge.

“You’re safe, little Mary,” she repeated Jareth’s words in a soothing murmur as she gently rocked the young girl. “I hope.”

Mary’s cry only grew louder, her tiny features turning a brilliant shade of red. Sarah felt acutely helpless. She hadn’t the first idea of how to properly tend a little one. Out of desperation, she opened the door and called for help. Jareth could not have left her, someone so inexperienced with children, without any aid at all!

But it seemed he had, as her pleas were met with only the echoes of her own voice and Mary’s squalling.

Sarah closed the door after discarding the brief notion of going in search of a servant. She likely would become lost in the foreign halls of Kingston castle long before she ever found another soul—particularly if Jareth had forbidden others to come to her assistance.

With a sigh, she sat in the rocker. “I’m afraid you only have me,” she told the girl in her arms who cried on. “’Tis greivous news for the both of us, but there is nothing for it.”

Of course, her words did little to allay Mary’s distress. Oh, how did one calm a weeping babe?

She thought of the old lullaby her nursemaid used to sing to her as a young girl. Sarah had only a passing gift for music—having never been intensely keen to acquire those skills—but there certainly could be no harm in an attempt.

She began in a soft, tentative voice, but as the song went on, as Mary quieted, Sarah sang with more confidence.

_Night falls, my sweet babe, over hillock and dale_.  
_The moon rises now, my babe, bright and pale_.  
_Close your eyes, my love, never shall you fear_,  
_For you are not alone, angels are near_.

_Sleep, my babe, sleep_.  
_Dream, my love, dream_.  
_On the morrow we shall be_  
_Together, you and me_.  
_Forever, you and me_.

_Stars shine, my sweet babe, over forest and hill_.  
_The world slumbers, my babe, silent and still_.  
_Close your eyes, my love, never shall you fear_,  
_For you are not alone, angels are near_.

_Sleep, my babe, sleep_.  
_Dream, my love, dream_.  
_On the morrow we shall be_  
_Together, you and me_.  
_Forever, you and me_.

As the last note languished in the silent room, Sarah looked down at her little charge nuzzled against her breast. Mary lay in repose, the peace on her tiny features only marred by an occasional stuttering breath—the last vestiges from her earlier wailing.  
She really was a beautiful child, underneath the grime streaked on her cheeks. What could have possibly inspired someone to wish this perfect creature away to the goblins?

Would another have comforted Toby in this room and wondered the same of his wisher?

With this last unpleasant reflection, Sarah joined Mary in slumber.

* * *

Hours later, Sarah woke to the dusky glow of early morning light, momentarily disoriented in the unfamiliar chamber. A bundle squirmed in her arms, and she recalled the previous night’s events. Mary stared up at her with large eyes, though she seemed less fearful than before. Sarah smiled and was elated when the girl gave her a small toothless grin in return.

This shared moment was interrupted when a servant entered the room. Without a word, she took the child, and Sarah worried the entire affair might have already come to its conclusion. It hardly seemed long enough.

As the woman left with Mary, two more servants stepped inside. One carried a covered tray and the other a pitcher and basin. They performed their tasks in silence. The servant with the tray laid out a spread of cheese and berries and a loaf of bread before pouring a cup of tea. The other filled the basin with steaming water and laid a folded cloth over the rim. Both would have exited without a word if Sarah hadn’t stopped them.

“Please,” she said, rising from her chair. “What have you done with the child?”

“She has only gone with the wet nurse, Miss Williams,” answered the one who appeared to be the more senior of the pair. “She will be returned after you have breakfasted and freshened up.”

“Thank you,” Sarah replied, giving the servants their leave.

Mary’s fate had not yet been decided, then. Sarah was uncertain which outcome she should hope for, but she was relieved all the same. The situation was impossible, wasn’t it? The girl was not well cared for at home, if her dirty, tattered state was of any indication—but if she was lost, would her future be even worse?

These grim thoughts chased away whatever appetite Sarah had, and so her food remained untouched. Instead, she turned her attention to the mirror over the washbasin and let out a bitter laugh. She was pale, green eyes darkened by a fitful night’s rest, and her hair had begun to fall out of the meticulous bun which Lucy had done up for her the day before. It was hardly the vision of a lively young woman, and she thought it apropos. Oh, how far the lofty have fallen indeed.

She washed her face and then pulled the pins from her hair, glad of the brush she found on the table. With her dark locks hanging past her shoulders, she looked more child than woman. In many ways, she supposed she was. Young. Naïve. It seemed silly now how worldly she had once believed herself to be by virtue of her upbringing in Laborintus and her limited exposure to the Fae.

Mary had not returned by the time Sarah finished refreshing herself. Anxiety churned her insides, but she refused to let it overtake her. Someone would have told her had Mary gone home—or otherwise. As a distraction, she rifled through the toys in the chest, retrieving those which seemed appropriate for the little girl. A silver rattle with tiny bells. A rag doll. Another doll made of ivory. She found other novelties Toby would have loved and imagined him here, playing with the wooden soldiers or amusing himself with the cup and ball as he waited for her to win him back.

“Miss?”

The wet nurse stood in the doorway, Mary at her hip. Clutching the rattle and dolls to her bosom, Sarah rose to greet the woman. She was pleased to see that someone had scrubbed the dusting of muck from the girl’s face and given her a laundered gown.

“Hello, Mary,” she said to the babe and was rewarded once more with a grin—just a hint. “Shall we play together?”

She collected the little girl in her arms and thanked the nurse. Mary seemed terribly fascinated with the trinkets Sarah had for her. She grasped the silver rattle with her diminutive hand and promptly put it to her mouth.

“Finding it tasty, little one?” Sarah laughed as she settled on the floor. Mary gurgled happily in reply.

Oh, yes. The child was most definitely undeserving of her current circumstance. As Toby would have been. This had to have been a lesson Jareth wanted engraved in her memory—though, if he had known the weight of her guilt before, he might not have deemed it necessary.

Sarah had no idea how long they sat on the floor, playing with the toys. She sang the few songs she remembered from her own childhood, recited a nursery rhyme or two. Mary’s favorite game seemed to be when Sarah would hide one of the dolls behind her back and then make it appear again with a cry of surprise. Sarah found the little girl’s peals of laughter to be terribly infectious.

When Mary lapsed into wide yawns, having finally grown weary of her play, Sarah retired with her to the rocker once more. The child required very little encouragement to nap. Again, Sarah felt a pang for the inequity forced upon this blameless little one. It tangled with the ever present, ever growing guilt she bore over nearly cursing her brother in the same manner.

With a heavy sigh, she glanced about the room and was startled to find Jareth leaning against the door frame, arms folded. How long had he been watching? He looked down at her with the same softness in his visage as he bore the night before for little Mary, and her heart fluttered in response.

“Is it over?” she asked in a near whisper.

“It is.” Jareth’s gaze dropped to the floor, and Sarah knew the child had not been won back.

As if answering a silent summons, a servant swept into the room and retrieved the babe. With an ache in her chest, Sarah watched the woman exit as quietly as she had entered.

“What’s to become of her?” She turned back to Jareth.

He straightened, holding a hand toward her. “Come with me, Miss Williams.”

She hesitated only a breath before rising from the chair and joining him. As her fingers met his, the room changed from a nursery to a study. Old leather-bound tomes lined the walls on shelves that spanned from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room was a great desk of the same organic design as the rest of the furniture in the castle.

“You may pose your questions now,” Jareth said, releasing her hand. He crossed the room to the thronelike chair on the far side of the desk, his exhaustion apparent by the way he draped himself over it.

Sarah took a tentative step forward, uncertain if she was meant to take one of the two seats on the opposite side. “Will I be able to return home?”

He huffed a dry laugh. “Of course. Once your curiosity is satisfied.”

She quietly chastised herself for entertaining even the slightest worry that he truly had intended to keep her captive. “Have I fulfilled my obligation, then?” She could not have possibly repaid her debt; one night spent tending a babe seemed a pittance compared to the terrible fate from which Jareth had rescued her and her brother.

Jareth stroked his finger across his lips as he regarded her thoughtfully. “Do you still wish to know what is to become of the girl?”

His simple, quiet question pierced her. What a selfish child she must be to have already grown more concerned for her own future than the little girl who was in her care but moments ago! _Oh, Sarah, will you never learn?_

Deservedly reproached, she gave Jareth a nod as she sat in one of the chairs. Trepidation pooled in her stomach as she waited for him to answer. She’d heard many whispered rumors over the years about what befell the ones lost to the goblins, and she feared having any one of them confirmed.

“It will be better for her than for her young mother who made the wish,” he said. “Mary will be cared for—fed, given a roof to live under, and clothes to wear—by some Fae family who will graciously take her as their charge. And in return, she will live out her life in service to them.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “It is all she can ever be.”

Sarah frowned at the severity in his tone, not comprehending the apparent weight behind his statement. “But I am all I can ever be, as you are—as anyone is. A servant can no more become a king than a Fae can become human.”

Jareth shook his head. “On the contrary, Miss Williams, both you and I can fall from grace. And while I may have reached the pinnacle of my place in society, you have yet to reach yours. But more, even those in the slums can rise above the muck of their birth with a little ingenuity and persistence—though it would be inordinately difficult.” He blew out a deep sigh. “Mary will be locked into servitude to that  
Fae family for all of her days. She will not have the option to choose a different master, or to explore apprenticeships. She is forever beholden to those who took her in.”

“But you speak of slavery!” Sarah exclaimed, utterly aghast. “Are we nothing more than livestock to the Fae?”

He gave her a sardonic grin. “Miss Williams, one day it will finally occur to you that you are, in fact, one of _us_.” She began to issue a cutting retort, but he spoke over her. “No, we do not view humans as livestock, as you so crassly put it. I talk not of slavery but of life-long protection. No matter how we might pacify the goblins with the fatted calf or wild boar, those who are not won back are irrevocably tied to the beasts.”

He leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingers into a steeple beneath his chin. “If my rule over this kingdom—or the rule of any of my successors—ever failed, the goblins would seek that which belonged to them. The families charged with the care of these discarded mortals are their last hope of safety.” He pinned her with a steely gaze. “Whatever tales you have heard of the goblins, the truth is far worse.”

Revulsion tied a queasy knot in Sarah’s middle. “And Mary’s mother? What is her fate?”

Jareth raised a brow. “Mary will pass out of mortal knowledge as though she had never existed in the first place—even the girl, herself, will have no memories of her former life. Her mother, however, will remember.” His voice was quiet, louring. “And she will recall every moment of Mary’s short life with brutal clarity—so that she can never deny the child she bore, no matter how she might like to pretend otherwise. It will eat at her, ravage her dreams, infiltrate her waking moments until she goes mad from the relentless haunting.”

What would that be like for Sarah? To have known of her brother, to remember every hair on his head, while even his own mother lived on as though she had never carried a child in her womb nor held him in her arms? For all of Karen’s careless parenting, Sarah did not doubt that she loved her son. In a moment of conceit, Sarah had very nearly poached that affection, that history from her stepmother. Eternally.  
Such knowledge would have driven Sarah to the brink.

“Is possible for anyone to win back those they have cast away,” she asked as remorse pricked farther into her heart, “or is the Labyrinth an insurmountable challenge?”

He looked out of the window toward the infinite maze. “The test has never been the Labyrinth itself, but the heart of the one who runs it.”

Cold understanding stole the air from the room. “Is this why you didn’t take Toby? Because you believed I hadn’t the heart to win him back? You’re wrong, you know. I’d have given my life for him.”

“I know you would have,” Jareth said, turning back to her. “But you foolishly offered yourself in his stead. Can you say, with all that guilt you stoically bear, that you would have had the heart to win yourself back?”

“Yes.” She wanted to believe that she would have valued her freedom enough to fight for it.

He studied her with a penetrating gaze, as if he knew of the doubt that cankered her resolve. “It was a gamble I was unwilling to make.”

“At what cost?” She left unasked why he had not taken her. He had made it clear that the deed was far from altruistic; he was duty bound to look after her—a promise made from the Kingstons to her grandfather.

Jareth stood and crossed the room to the window. “You needn’t concern yourself with such things.” His voice was hollow, weary, and it unsettled her.

She couldn’t let the matter rest, though. “With what price was I liberated? I’m owed this much.” She regretted the assertion as soon as it left her tongue, but it was too late to recant.

“I owe you nothing, Miss Williams.” He spun about, fixing her with an angry glare. “Will you never be anything more than a spoiled child?”

His question struck at the heart of her own recent discoveries about her character and her throat tightened. She ought to have cowed beneath his honest assessment of her conduct, duly censured, but the kindling of her temper had been set alight and the flame would not be smothered.

“Am I solely to blame for my manner?” she demanded as she rose from her chair in heated indignation, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. “I have been lied to for all of my existence, sheltered from some terrible truth about myself that no one will deign to tell me. There are secrets at every turn which I am forbidden to be privy to. So you will forgive me for wanting to know just how deeply I am indebted to you!” She inhaled in a shuddering breath in a futile effort to rein in her temper.

“You cannot hope to repay this debt!” he returned in kind as he stalked toward her. “I nearly lost my hold on this kingdom—a hold that has been passed down for generations. A hold which has ever been tenuous at best! And I nearly undid all of it by refusing the goblins their due. It will take me centuries to rebuild the fear and respect which keep the goblins under our rule!”

She couldn’t breathe under the weight of his revelation. He was all that kept the goblins from roaming the countryside, looking for new prey—and seeking those still tethered to their kingdom. Jareth alone stood between the world and the stuff of nightmares. Jareth, who in the light of morning appeared more a man bowed by a heavy yoke than the imposing figure of a powerful Fae lord. And she was part of the burden he carried.

“You should have let me run the Labyrinth like the others.” The words tasted like ash as she spoke them.

Resignation made his face grow slack. “I couldn’t.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, capturing the tear which had fallen there. Anticipation charged the air between them like an impending storm as he held her gaze, and Sarah both feared and hoped for what might come next.

Jareth retreated from her with a frustrated growl, hands clenched at his side. “I don’t want this. I never wanted any of this!”

She took an unconscious step backward, as though his visceral discontent were a living thing, ready to lash out at her. How dearly he must despise his obligation to her, to protect this silly mortal from even herself! She could not fault him for his resentment, but oh, how it stung to be faced with this biting truth! The ache of it inspired a fresh wave of tears.

Jareth glanced at her with a pained expression, as if in the throes of a great internal battle. “May he forgive me this one indiscretion,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

Sarah frowned. His words made little sense to her, but she dared not ask for a clarification. He looked on her once more, the line of his mouth set with an unsettling determination as he closed the short distance between them. The battle had apparently been decided, and she held her breath, awaiting the outcome with trepidation.

“May you forgive me,” he said in reverent tones before lifting her chin with long fingers. Her heart thrummed like a wild hummingbird as he bowed his head and spoke her name in a desultory whisper:

“Sarah.”

She closed her eyes at the gentle brush of his lips against hers. His kiss was feather light. Once. Twice. An entreaty with the provision that she could reject this inappropriate intimacy. When she tilted her head up to meet him, he wrapped his arm about her waist and pulled her against him, taking her mouth possessively with his. Every sinew in her body quivered as if imbued with a powerful, unfamiliar magic.

She had never experienced anything so frightening, so exquisite.

He pulled away from her abruptly, giving her an anguished look before raising his gaze over her head.

“Good morning, Robert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while I did write the first half of the next chapter a few years back, this is the end of what was originally posted before I disappeared. Everything from here on out is new.
> 
> Also, as a reminder, updates could be slow and sporadic. I don't have much free time to write fic these days.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Though many of my past readers assumed that _Pride & Prejudice_ was the inspiration for this tale, the real inspiration was Elizabeth Gaskell's _Wives and Daughters_. (She also wrote _North and South_\--which, to be fair, _is_ derivative of Jane Austen's most famous work, only with deeper social commentary on the burgeoning industrial age in England. But I digress...)


End file.
